"So we can expect a media circus."

"But with our own network in the center ring," Dan said quickly. "And once the officials whisk you away to Frankfurt for medical tests, we'll be the only ones permitted to-"

"No Frankfurt."

"You know all hostages go to the hospital there for medical assessment."

"That doesn't mean I have to go." He turned back to Ronnie. She looked as fragile and breakable as one of the porcelain dolls in his aunt's collection.

I'm not going to let you mess up my life.

Ronnie had known the risks of staying, but she had been willing to take them for reasons of her own. He had not been able to leave her, but he had no right to judge the consequences of her plan of action when he was ignorant of the nature of those risks.

He leaned forward and spoke to David. "Change direction. Head south, we're not going to Marasef airport."

She was being carried down a gleaming ivory-and-gold tile hallway, passing magnificent paintings, priceless panels with intricate frets…

"A museum?" she muttered. "What the devil-am I doing in a museum?"

"Not a museum. A palace," Gabe said. "Open the door, Dan."

A palace?

Gabe strode into a chamber as magnificent as the corridor through which she had been carried. "Thanks, Dan. Now get out of here before the fireworks start."

"Gladly," Dan said. "See you later."

She was being placed on something silken and cushioned, a chaise lounge. Then Gabe was gone.

A moment later an ice pack settled against her jaw. She flinched, her eyes focusing on Gabe's face a few inches from her own.

"Easy," he said quietly. "Let me hold it here. The ice will bring the swelling down."

"Why should I have-" Her eyes widened in realization and outrage. "You hit me!"

"How else was I to-" He gasped when her fist connected with his stomach and the breath left him.

She jumped to her feet, glaring at him. "Damn you!"

He straightened painfully. "At least you didn't use the gun."

"I should have," she said with ferocity. "You deserve it. What gave you the right to interfere? I told you I couldn't come with you to-"

"Hold it!" he interrupted. "I agree I deserve any reasonable punishment you care to dish out. Do you want to hit me again? I won't even put up a fight."

Her hands slowly unclenched. "You shouldn't have done it. You had no right."

"And you had no right to put me in a position where I felt helpless to do anything else. Do you think I like beating up on women?"

"How do I know?" She gingerly touched her jaw. "You certainly hit me hard enough."

"I had to knock you out." He grimaced. "But I had no idea you had the proverbial glass jaw. I thought you'd wake up in the helicopter."

"You shouldn't have done it," she repeated. She looked around the huge room. The decor was a cross between Mediterranean and elegant French Provincial. The couch was pure turquoise-cushioned opulence, the floor white marble tile covered by a delicate cream-and-blue Aubusson carpet, and the French doors might have graced a harem in ancient days. "Is this a hotel?"

He shook his head. "The palace."

She vaguely remembered him saying something about one. "What palace?"

"The royal palace of Sedikhan. You seemed so adamant about avoiding the spotlight, I had Dave land us on the palace grounds instead ofthe airport. I radioed ahead and got permission from Sheikh Ben Raschid, the reigning head of state, and he'll run interference for us until we get our bearings."

A flare of hope shot through her. She might be able to salvage this disaster yet. "Then nobody knows I'm here?"

"Not yet." He paused. "But I'm not going to lie to you. We had to tell the authorities I'm here and Dan said your name was mentioned to the CIA as the instigator of the rescue attempt."

"Damn, they might as well have broadcast it by satellite." She drew a long breath, trying to mink. "It may still be okay. I can take off right away. If I'm not here, they can't ask questions." She looked around the suite. "Where's my camera bag?"

"Still in the helicopter," he said. "And there's no sense you running away yet. I don't deny there will be leaks, but no one is going to be able to reach you while you're here."

He made it sound so easy. He didn't realize her only chance was to get away before- She was lying to herself, she realized. It was already too late."

"That won't help," she said dully. "They havemy name and they'll start to dig. You should have left me in Said Ababa."

"It's done. You're here now. Stop bellyach-ing."

She blinked and then said reluctantly, "You're right, no use crying over spilled milk. I'll just have to clean it up."

"No, I'll clean it up," he said. "But I have to know how much damage control is needed. Why are you so afraid of-"

"It's my business," she said. "Stay out of it."

"Not likely. I brought you here and I'm not-" He stopped as he saw her set expression. "Okay, I'll drop it for now. You could use a good night's sleep and so could I."

She glanced at the king-size bed across the room that was draped with gauze curtains. She had a sudden memory of the chipped headboard of the bed they had shared last night at Fatima's.

As if he had read her mind he said softly, "You can't say I don't provide better for you than you did for me."

She felt a surge of heat. He had not mentioned leaving her. Did he mean to share this suite and that bed with her tonight? Her gaze flew back to his face and she saw him shake his head.

"I'll find my own bunk. I need to get some sleep myself."

The emotion that cascaded through her was a confused rush of relief and disappointment. She tried to make her tone casual. "I didn't think anything else."

"Yes, you did, and so did I. It was as disturbing as hell." He turned away and walked toward the door. "I'll join you here for breakfast at ten and we'll talk."

"I get up early. Six at the latest."

"Then cultivate the luxury life until I get here. Right now I have to go pay my respects to His Majesty and ask a few favors. But tomorrow I'm going to put a hell of a lot of questions to you and I'm going to get some answers."

She scowled. "Maybe."

"Answers," he repeated.

"What would you do if I told you to go jump in the lake to find your blasted answers?" She lifted her chin. "Punch me out again?"

His compelling gaze met her own. "No, but I'll find another way to get them."

Lord, he was determined, she thought with a shiver of apprehension as she watched the door close behind him.

Well, so what? She had fought determined men before and come out on top.

But she didn't want to fight Gabe Falkner. She respected him and admired him and-

She pulled back sharply before she could complete the thought and moved forward to the French doors. She stared out at a lovely courtyard that was crowned by a mosaic-tiled fountain illuminated by strategically placed lights. This place was a vision of peace and beauty, a balm to her frazzled nerves after those weeks in Said Ababa. She should really go find her camera and get out of here, but she knew she wasn't going to do it. It would do no harm to stay in this lovely place for a night. She could leave in the morning. She was tired and needed a bath and-

None of that mattered. They were all excuses. The truth was that she couldn't bear to break from Gabe Falkner with this discord between them. He had been part of her life too long. She wanted the separation to be clean and without anger.

"It's about time you got here," she said as Gabe walked into the suite at eleven the next day. "I hate people who aren't prompt. I've been up since six and prowling around in this- You look terrible. What's wrong with you?"

"Nothing. I'm just a little tired. I couldn't sleep last night. I guess I'm suffering from aftershock." He made a face. "I never thought it could happen to me. I'm not exactly the sensitive type."

But he was sensitive in his relations with others, she wanted to say. He seemed to possess a sixth sense, an empathy she had seen in few men. She felt a surge of sympathy mixed with guilt. He was so tough outwardly she had almost forgotten the ordeal he had just gone through.

"Well, what are you doing standing there?" she asked. "Sit down and eat something." She settled herself at the table the servants had rolled into the suite over an hour ago, uncovered the warming dishes, and spooned eggs and bacon on a plate. "Protein, that's what you need. Energy food. When I was held in Kuwait, I used to pet this terrible hunger for bacon. Sometimes I thought I could smell it. What did you get a yen for?"

"Well, I have to admit my primary yen wasn't for food." He went on immediately, "Big Macs." He started to eat the eggs. "I'm a fast-food junkie. I acquired the taste when I became a correspondent. There was almost always a McDonald's in any country I visited. It was like a little piece of home, as American as apple pie."

"Yeah," she said wistfully. "I guess it is."

His gaze raked her face. "That bruise is still pretty evident."

She shrugged. "I've had worse." Grinning, she added, "And given worse."

His hand went to his stomach. "You did last night. Do you want to see my bruise?"

Powerful shoulders gleaming in the lamplight, muscles rippling in a washboard-firm abdomen.

"I don't believe that's necessary." Her hand was trembling a little as she poured coffee into his cup and then her own. "I know my own power."

"I don't think you do." His gaze was fixed thoughtfully on her face. "You pack a punch that doesn't show up on the anatomy." He suddenly chuckled. "Or not in the usual places."

He was speaking of arousal, sexual response. She was used to much more graphic terms and yet she could feel the heat in her cheeks. "I think you need to get home to Mora Renord. Have you called her yet? I'm sure she'd come flying to your bed."