Royal 02 - Royal Passion by Jennifer Blake Page B

fact, she was aware of Luca staring in their direction. The gypsy straightened, pushing away from the marble column as he waited to see if she required help with the man who was accosting her.
    "I see you have a bodyguard,” de Landes murmured. “Send him away."
    "How?"
    "You are an intelligent young woman. Think of some excuse."
    He did not tarry to see if she would obey, but strolled away a short distance, pretending an interest in a stand of umbrellas.
    Mara turned back to the cloth still on the counter, fingering it as if still trying to come to a decision. She set her teeth into her bottom lip as she sought in her mind for a subterfuge. It crossed her mind to cry out, to allow Luca to overpower de Landes, then seek Roderic's help in finding and freeing her grandmother. But she could not. The risk was too great. Abruptly, an idea came to her and she turned, walking to where the gypsy stood.
    "Shopping is such a wearying business, isn't it?” she said with a forced smile. “I don't think I can face the walk back to Ruthenia House. Could you please summon a cabriolet?"
    "At once.” Luca inclined his head, but as he went he cast a dark look at the man by the umbrellas.
    "What a fine conspirator you make,” de Landes said from close beside her a moment later. “I chose well."
    She turned on him. “What do you want?"
    "How fierce you are! You would do well to remember your position and that of your beloved grandmother.” The man touched his mustache, smoothing it into the thin black line that led on each side of his red, moist mouth to a narrow, pointed beard. His smile was cold.
    Mara stared at him. Inside her rose a virulent hatred allied with a chill fear. De Landes was handsome in a dark and diabolical fashion, an image he deliberately heightened with his black clothing and the pointed shape of his beard and mustache. During the short time of their acquaintance, she had come to the conclusion that he enjoyed his scheming and considered himself another Machiavelli. That egotism made him no less dangerous.
    He gave a brief nod of satisfaction at her silent acceptance of his rebuke. “Quickly then. I congratulate you on your swift conquest of the prince. I had not thought you would find it so easy."
    "Your congratulations are premature. I am living under his roof, nothing more."
    "How disappointing. It must be remedied."
    His voice was cold, the words precise. There could be no misunderstanding. She raised her chin. “I see no need."
    "Don't you? I will explain once again. In a short time you are going to have to exert influence over this man, this prince. Your greatest hope of being heeded is for you to be on the most intimate terms possible with him."
    "It's madness,” she cried in low tones, her hands clenched at her sides. “He isn't a man to be influenced by a woman, no matter how close his relationship with her."
    "All men listen to their mistresses, especially if the affair is new and the woman is clever."
    "You don't understand. The prince is suspicious. He doesn't believe in the loss of memory, I know he doesn't. I'm afraid he may have brought me with him to Paris only to watch me. It won't work!"
    "You must see that it does. You can, if you will put aside your maidenly shrinking and foolish excuses. I assure you it's so, for even I feel your attraction."
    She sent him a look of revulsion. “I can't do this, I can't!"
    "You had best steel yourself to it.” His voice was sibilant, and there was a red tint to his white skin for her lack of response to his compliment. “In two weeks’ time the prince must attend a ball given by the Vicomtesse Beausire. It is your job to be certain that he is present. The consequences for failure you well know."
    "But how—I can't—"
    "An invitation will come. You will see that he accepts it."
    "He may accept it regardless. There might be no need at all for my interference."
    "And he could just as easily disregard it. Prince Roderic is known for being discriminating and