Rand would wager his intentions were not particularly honorable.
For his part, Rand wanted nothing to do with the prince. Yet here he was, charged with the task of protecting the heir to the Avalonian throne from the intrigues that surrounded him.
It was only Rand’s family connections that placed him in this awkward position in the first place. And given those connections he could scarcely refuse a request from the Foreign Office to return to service, unofficially of course, to look into the prince’s charge of a conspiracy to discredit him centered right here in London.
Prince Alexei had specifically asked the government for Rand even though the two men had never actually met until his arrival in England. No doubt the prince had assumed the distant blood connection between them would assure Rand’s loyalty. Blasted man.
Rand had no desire to further his acquaintance with the prince or his country. Whatever hereditary Avalonian title he might hold was nothing more than a mildly amusing bit of history. He was the sixth Viscount Beaumont. The son of his father and an Englishman to his very soul. His loyalty was to his sovereign and the land of his birth. So if the country he had long sworn to defend did not wish to have a royal visitor discredited while on British soil, Rand could not refuse to lend his assistance regardless of his personal preferences.
Still, initially, it had seemed the prince’s fears were based on nothing more than the misapprehensions of a monarch whose country had long been embroiled in battles for power between one branch of the royal family or another. Not until yesterday had Rand discovered there was indeed some sort of conspiracy afoot. He’d received information that a man who dwelled in the underbelly of international intrigue, Ivan Strizich, nothing more than a political henchman really, was in league with an Avalonian official. The men assigned to work with Rand had managed to locate Strizich but it was agreed they would wait for the miserable cur to lead them to the man they really wanted. The man heading the plot against the prince.
Damn it all, they had nearly had him.
Rand fully accepted the blame for their failure. Obviously the years since the war had dulled his senses and his instincts. They would have to start from scratch now. The prince had any number of social events scheduled but Strizich and the man he worked for would be far more cautious after tonight. Strizich would likely drop out of sight completely, and so too would any connection to the man in charge.
Pity there wasn’t some way to draw him out.
Absently Rand hefted the knife in his hand. The evening wasn’t a total failure. Rand had managed to save the lovely Lady Jocelyn from harm at the hands of Strizich and, more than likely, rescue her from who knew what at the hands of the prince as well. She was safe for the moment.
Or was she?
Rand stared at the knife. There was every possibility she was right in her assessment of the situation regarding any continuing threat. But if she was wrong ...
Strizich was a dangerous man, as was whomever he worked for. In Rand’s experience there was no greater danger then an extremist of any kind. He’d far prefer an adversary who was motivated by greed instead of idealism. And when the prize was control of a country, the stakes were monumental.
If Lady Jocelyn was wrong she could be dead by daybreak.
And it would be his fault.
He’d allowed Strizich to escape but he would protect the lady with his life if need be. He owed as much to her for his failure.
He slipped the knife beneath his coat and headed toward the French doors and the gardens beyond to find his men. Rand and everyone he could spare would not let her out of their sight tonight. Once she was safely back at Effington House, he would make Thomas aware of the situation and they would determine further steps.
And if in the process, he was forced to kiss her again, well—he grinned— such was the price of
For his part, Rand wanted nothing to do with the prince. Yet here he was, charged with the task of protecting the heir to the Avalonian throne from the intrigues that surrounded him.
It was only Rand’s family connections that placed him in this awkward position in the first place. And given those connections he could scarcely refuse a request from the Foreign Office to return to service, unofficially of course, to look into the prince’s charge of a conspiracy to discredit him centered right here in London.
Prince Alexei had specifically asked the government for Rand even though the two men had never actually met until his arrival in England. No doubt the prince had assumed the distant blood connection between them would assure Rand’s loyalty. Blasted man.
Rand had no desire to further his acquaintance with the prince or his country. Whatever hereditary Avalonian title he might hold was nothing more than a mildly amusing bit of history. He was the sixth Viscount Beaumont. The son of his father and an Englishman to his very soul. His loyalty was to his sovereign and the land of his birth. So if the country he had long sworn to defend did not wish to have a royal visitor discredited while on British soil, Rand could not refuse to lend his assistance regardless of his personal preferences.
Still, initially, it had seemed the prince’s fears were based on nothing more than the misapprehensions of a monarch whose country had long been embroiled in battles for power between one branch of the royal family or another. Not until yesterday had Rand discovered there was indeed some sort of conspiracy afoot. He’d received information that a man who dwelled in the underbelly of international intrigue, Ivan Strizich, nothing more than a political henchman really, was in league with an Avalonian official. The men assigned to work with Rand had managed to locate Strizich but it was agreed they would wait for the miserable cur to lead them to the man they really wanted. The man heading the plot against the prince.
Damn it all, they had nearly had him.
Rand fully accepted the blame for their failure. Obviously the years since the war had dulled his senses and his instincts. They would have to start from scratch now. The prince had any number of social events scheduled but Strizich and the man he worked for would be far more cautious after tonight. Strizich would likely drop out of sight completely, and so too would any connection to the man in charge.
Pity there wasn’t some way to draw him out.
Absently Rand hefted the knife in his hand. The evening wasn’t a total failure. Rand had managed to save the lovely Lady Jocelyn from harm at the hands of Strizich and, more than likely, rescue her from who knew what at the hands of the prince as well. She was safe for the moment.
Or was she?
Rand stared at the knife. There was every possibility she was right in her assessment of the situation regarding any continuing threat. But if she was wrong ...
Strizich was a dangerous man, as was whomever he worked for. In Rand’s experience there was no greater danger then an extremist of any kind. He’d far prefer an adversary who was motivated by greed instead of idealism. And when the prize was control of a country, the stakes were monumental.
If Lady Jocelyn was wrong she could be dead by daybreak.
And it would be his fault.
He’d allowed Strizich to escape but he would protect the lady with his life if need be. He owed as much to her for his failure.
He slipped the knife beneath his coat and headed toward the French doors and the gardens beyond to find his men. Rand and everyone he could spare would not let her out of their sight tonight. Once she was safely back at Effington House, he would make Thomas aware of the situation and they would determine further steps.
And if in the process, he was forced to kiss her again, well—he grinned— such was the price of
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