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."

Chapter 3

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.

"You have, actually." he said in a faintly surprised tone. "I was rather looking forward to the experience."

"Oh, don't worry, it may still come to that. For right now…" She shrugged and turned away to hide the heat she could feel rising to her throat…her face. His face was entirely too attractive when he smiled at her with that rakish charm, his eyes heavy-lidded and gone unexpectedly soft… "The fact is, I have a little leeway-not much, but a little. You say you need some time. I'm willing to give it to you-to a point." Faking a huge yawn, she paused in the kitchen doorway to lift her arms over her head in a sinuous catlike stretch, knowing that motion would lift her jacket as well, and reveal a good bit of silky chemise and the skin on the small of her back, and hint…just hint…at everything below that.

Two could play the subtle tease, she thought.

"Hmm-pardon me. It's been rather a long day for me," she murmured huskily. "If you don't mind. I think I'd like to take that couch, now. If you'll just throw me a blanket and maybe a pillow…"

"Nonsense," Nikolas said grandly, "what kind of host would I be? You shall have the bed, of course. I'll take the sofa." He slipped past her with the quickness that seemed so unexpected in a big man, touching-apparently casually-her waist as he did so. The sensation of his warm hand on her bare skin sent an entirely involuntary shudder of pleasure coursing through her. "After all-" for a moment his eyes, bright with laughter, stared straight into hers, and for that moment her brain seemed to cease all function "-I do have a certain reputation to maintain…as a gentleman, that is."

My God, she thought, what's the matter with me? I was warned about this man!

"Hold it." Recovering quickly, she caught up with him as he crossed the living room with his long-legged athlete's stride and tapped him on the shoulder. "Not so fast, Your Highness. Don't think for one minute you're going to stick me off in a bedroom behind a closed door and leave you free to slip out and away the second I nod off. This couch right here will do me fine, thank you very much."

Nikolas tilted his head and gazed thoughtfully past her. "Slip out…and away…do you know, it's a pity the idea hadn't occurred to me."

Yes, he was enjoying himself again, but that fact no longer bemused him. He was growing accustomed to the realization that this woman, Corbett Lazlo's crack bounty hunter, stirred his juices as no one had been able to in a very long time. Maybe ever. Since there seemed to be no use fighting it, he reasoned, what else could he do but enjoy it?

"I do see your point. I suppose comfort and good manners must occasionally be sacrificed to duty. All right," he said briskly, "so it's the sofa for you, then. I'll just get that blanket…" He stepped toward the bedroom, then paused and turned back to her. one eyebrow lifted deliberately toward his hairline. "I suppose you're going to tell me you're a light sleeper as well."

She narrowed her eyes, watching him the way he imagined a cat might eye a mouse weighing the merits of a suicide dash across open floor. "Very light."

"Ah. So…there's not much chance I could slip past you in the middle of the night, then, is there?"

She smiled, and it was the same smile he'd seen once before, hovering a warm breath above his, just before she whispered the word. Serendipity.

"Not a chance," she purred.

"Huh." Pasting on a frown to contain the grin he could feel quivering dangerously through his facial muscles. Nikolas went to fetch his unexpected houseguest a pillow and a blanket.