Kathleen Creighton: The Rebel King

"Carrington's a decent man. Probably make a decent head of state as well." He jerked around, eyes gone dark and fierce, and she was aware once again of how small the kitchen was. and how big Nikolas Donovan seemed standing in it. "Look- that's not the point. No man should have the right to rule without the consent of the people he's ruling. This is the twenty-first century. The people-"

Rhia held up both hands in mock surrender. "Hey, you don't have to explain democracy to me-I'm an American, remember? Anyway, back to the issue at hand. You're going to have to face this sooner or later. Nikolas. You do know that, don't you?"

"Of course, I do." He was silent again, staring past her at the rain-splashed window glass. She waited, and after a moment he drew a breath and shook his head. "It came at me too damn fast. I needed to think a bit." Another pause, and then he drilled her with his intent gray eyes. "I went to ask Silas, you know. It was the first thing I did when I heard the…rumors. I suppose I wanted him to explain, or some such thing." His eyes went bleak.

"And?"

He shrugged, and his mouth twisted and settled into hard, angry lines. "Couldn't find him. Wasn't at his apartment in Dunford, hadn't been to his job at the college in days. Don't know where he's got to. I know I want to hear it from him, and until I do, as far as I'm concerned it's just that-rumors."

It was Rhia's turn to be silent and thoughtful as she watched Silvershire's reluctant prince run hot water and scrub egg off frying pan and dinner plates. She was remembering the rich, velvety voice on the phone that was her only contact with her boss, the founder and head of the Lazlo Group.

Nikolas Donovan can be a hard man. Never forget that. He's also intelligent, resourceful, charming and suave.

I've heard he's something of a fanatic. Rhia had said.

Not a fanatic. Corbett Lazlo had responded after a brief pause. He's too intelligent for that kind of insanity. Donovan's a reasonable man. Focused, yes. Passionate…but capable of iron self-control. It would be a grave mistake to underestimate him.

Wonderful, Rhia had thought then. Just what I need - another powerful, bull headed man determined to have his way.

A small shiver passed through her body now, as she gazed at the broad and powerful shoulders, the rich sable hair curling slightly on the back of a smooth sun-bronzed neck. So far she'd seen the suave sophisticate, the smiling charmer, the intelligent man. the hard man. She wondered what the passionate man would be like…and what it would take to test his iron will.

"Lord Carrington was ready to arrest you," she remarked. "I assume you knew that when you ran. Were you aware that Danielle Cavanaugh-the assassin known as the Sparrow-named you, before she died, as the man who hired her to kill Reginald?"

His laugh was brief and harsh. "Nothing much surprises me these days, you know." He turned, drying his hands on a dishtowel. "Considering what's happened in Silvershire over the past few months." He held up a clenched fist, one finger extended, a sardonic smile curving his lips. "One-the crown prince gets murdered practically on the eve of his marriage to the princess of Gastonia and his ascent to the throne, thus saving Silvershire- and the princess-from unimaginable disaster." Up went another finger, along with the errant eyebrow. "Two-the reigning king collapses from shock and grief, and Lord Russell Carrington, off in Gastonia to escort the bride-to-be to her nuptials, rushes home to assume the king's duties-but not before falling in love with and ultimately marrying Reginald's erstwhile intended, the lovely Princess Amelia."

His smile was all teeth. "How'm I doing so far?"

"You must read the Quiz," Rhia murmured. "You're certainly up on all the royal gossip."

"Hmm, yes, well. I do try to keep informed. Particularly when my name is being bandied about as the most likely candidate for royal murderer."

"You haven't mentioned the part where it's discovered during the royal autopsy-through routine blood typing, I assume-that Reginald could not possibly have been the biological child of either King Henry or Queen Alexis."

He gave her a quelling look. "Hush, I was coming to that."

He held up a third finger. "The plot thickens. Scandal follows mystery, follows intrigue. We learn Reginald has an illegitimate child by the illegitimate daughter of the prince of Naessa-ah, those randy royals!" The fourth finger shot up. "Next, we have a bloody great explosion right next to where the king is lying in a coma. He's not injured, thank God, but I understand the same can't be said for his personal physician. I'm told the lady-Dr. Smith, is it? Something exotic-Zara, I believe-was rather badly injured."

Rhia nodded. "She was. A head injury. She had amnesia for a while. Fully recovered, now, though, and marrying the psychologist for the Lazlo Group who helped bring her back. Walker Shaw-I know him personally. He's a good man." She paused. "She's the one who discovered the vault, you know."

Nikolas gave her a sidelong look, narrowed and wary. "Vault?"

"Oh, mah goodness," Rhia said in her sweetest Southern. "I thought for sure you'd know 'bout that. That's where the DNA evidence came from that proves-"

Nikolas's teeth snapped shut. He closed his fist and punched the air with it as his voice raised to override hers. "Yes, and then we have the Sparrow. An assassin by trade. This woman makes a deathbed confession you say, in which she names me-"

"Donovan." Her voice was quiet, now, but firm. "She said she was hired by someone named Donovan." She paused while he stared at her, hot-eyed. "There's more than one Donovan in this story, Nikolas."

"Silas…" It hissed from him on an exhaled breath as he leaned back again against the counter. He shook his head. "Yes, and what could he possibly have to do with any of this?" He pressed the heels of his hands hard against his eyes as if they burned even him, but when he looked at her again his eyes were cold. And hard. "They'd have arrested me anyway, wouldn't they." It wasn't a question. "And they sent you to find me."

"Well, my Lord, what did you expect? Look, there are questions that need answering. And naturally the king wants to meet you-since you appear to be his long-lost son and all. Carrington has questions…doubts…suspicions, maybe, but you've met him, talked with him, you know he's a fair man. If you're innocent-"

"Carrington is a good man-and I am innocent."

"Then why," Rhia said on a gust of exasperation, "won't you come back with me and prove it?"

He passed a big, strong-boned hand over his eyes again, and this time when they emerged from cover they were no longer hard. They looked tired, she thought. Wounded. Still, when he spoke his voice held the ring of cold steel.

"I have questions of my own that need answers. When I have them, I'll go back. Not until then."

"Well, then," Rhia said briskly, getting to her feet, "I hope you have a comfortable couch and a spare bath towel or two. because my orders are not to come back without you. And since I'm not about to let you out of my sight now that I've found you, I'm afraid I'm going to be staying right here until you're ready to go home."

What happened to throwing me over your shoulder and hauling me off to see the king?"

Instead of being annoyed by her announcement. Nikolas's voice and smile betrayed amusement, and even his eyes had lost their steely glitter. Rhia wondered if that was simply more evidence of his legendary self-control. For all she knew-could only hope-the man was seething inside.

"Sorry to disappoint you," she said tartly, annoyed herself at the hum that had come again from nowhere to warm her chest and quicken her pulse.