When all was said and done, he’d referred to himself as Lucien Moreau, but answered to the title of Prince Akaba of the Kingdom of Dahomey. Or was Lucien the title?

  He had no idea anymore.

  “If my father increases the amount of the offering to fifteen thousand francs, will that be enough to lead to information of the princess’s whereabouts?”

  The three men looked at each other. LeBlanc wiped his forehead. “Your Highness, let’s see what we can do before we take that route.”

  Lucien felt his suspicions stir like a nest of cobras. Why would LeBlanc make a statement like that?

  “We should increase it,” Dubois countered, picking up his glass of port. “Perhaps that much money would be the catalyst to bring about the princess’s return.”

  Once more LeBlanc said, “I don’t believe that is the right thing to do. We should continue our efforts. An increase of the money may not make any difference. Why should we take the risk?”

  A movement from his peripheral vision alerted him to Danielle’s silent presence. She’d done well in her role, remaining by his side, silent for the most part. Although Dubois’ eyes kept drifting towards her, with obvious lust flaring in the depths, she maintained her composure.

  Lucien had a hard time keeping his. Several times, he’d wanted to reach over the table and punch the man in the face for daring to look at his wife so openly. However, that would only complicate matters and he could ill afford that.

  There had to be a way to force the men’s hands. If he did, then he’d be able to determine which of these men may know more than he let on about Hangbe’s disappearance.

  Lucien blinked. There, that was the way to do it!

  “Very well, gentlemen. I will defer to your suggestions for now. In three days, if I do not hear anything about the whereabouts of the princess, I will take matters into my own hands.

  Dubois scowled. “What could you possibly do?”

  Pressing his lips together, Lucien said, “All you need to concern yourself with is that I will do what you are incapable of—finding my sister.”

  “But your Highness, three days is not nearly enough time.” LeBlanc protested, wiping the sweat away, this time from under his chin.

  He stood and Danielle moved closer to his side. Good, ma reine.

  Choosing not to acknowledge LeBlanc’s word, he made a general statement to all the men. They stood in deference to his leaving. “Now I must go but I will expect to hear from you. Give Lady Dallmann my regards.”

  “As you wish, your Highness,” the men murmured.

  Without another glance, Lucien strode way from the table, Danielle close behind.

  They said nothing to each other as Lucien headed back to their suite. Then, on an impulse, he decided to leave the house. Without a word, he turned toward the back of the mansion and out into the gardens.

  Lady Dallmann’s home boasted of a maze garden, rife with hidden trails and many elements of curiosity to titillate the mind. In the heat of the day, the entire area was perfumed with the scent of flowers of all varieties. At night, the floral aroma continued, less pungent but just as intoxicating, as had moon-flowering plants hardy enough to survive the weather, blossomed under the silvery night.

  With Danielle at his side, he took a less traveled path into the maze garden. If this was any other day, he would have loved to have spent this moment basking under this luminous glow with his wife. As it was, he settled for her calm presence.

  He didn’t speak until he was sure they were far away from the mansion. Lucien had no reason to believe the Frenchmen would follow him, but he didn’t want to take the chance.

  They came to a place where a fountain bathed under the moonlight. Statues shaped like a pair of entwined lovers in rapture glowed under the moon. Water spewed from where the immortalized couple clung to each other and into the basin.

  “What do you think?”

  “I think you were right to force their hand, my prince. I’ve never heard such ridiculous reasons for inaction.”

  “Someone there is trying to keep me from finding my sister.”

  “Then it’s entirely possible she is here.”

  He folded his arms and studied the entwined lovers. “Who do you think is the one involved, Danielle?”

  “Monsieur Dubois seemed more riveted to my appearance than any of the men. I wanted to stab his eyes out for his blatant disrespect of me.”

  “I would have let you too, if it didn’t cause problems. You can’t just go around threatening people like you did Marianne.”

  Danielle gave a dubious grunt and Lucien allowed himself a small smile.

  “What did you think of Monsieur St. Martin?” She went forward and dipped her hand in the shallow basin of water. “Do you think he could be the one?”

  “I don’t know. He gave very little way and said little as well. He could be a man of few words or a man with something to hide.”

  She lifted her wet fingers and let the droplets fall from the tips of her hand. “LeBlanc, of all the men seemed the most likely. He kept sweating and his eyes were shifty.”

  “Shifty eyes are not an indicator that a man is guilty.”

  “Maybe not, but he did insist you do nothing but wait until France gets off her—”

  “Oui, ma reine. I found that suspicious as well.”

  Shaking the water off her hand, she turned and faced him. The moonlight dappled over her, sending silvery light along her skin. “I also cannot believe that twelve thousand francs wouldn’t result in any information regarding the princess. That is a lot of money. Do you think maybe they didn’t give notice to the public about the money?”

  “I don’t know.” He sighed in frustration. “I just don’t know.”

  Once more, they lapsed into silence as he tried to sort out all that he’d learned.

  “What is next, Akaba?”

  “I think we need to keep an eye on them for the next two days. They will be touring the area. Lady Dallmann and her husband will be responsible for that. If my sister is here, one of the men will be looking for an opportunity to get word to a local contact here.”

  “From what Lady Dallmann has planned, there will be very little opportunity for them to do anything separate from the tour.”

  “We’ll have to go with them then,” Lucien said.

  “My prince,” Danielle said in measured tones, as if trying to find the right words. “What if we were to do something that would force their hand sooner?”

  He turned to her. “What?”

  “You are the prince of the kingdom of Dahomey. We can ask Lady Dallmann to connect to her associates with the newspapers who can write an article about you for the local news area.”

  He brightened. “I see. Have the members of the press report on a stately visit from the prince of Dahomey.”

  “Oui! You can use the press in order to force their hand.”

  “That is a good idea, Danielle.”

  A moment of shared pleasure passed between them. Using the press, he’d be able to tell the people that an award for the return of his sister in U.S. currency would be the catalyst.

  Whoever it was behind his sister’s abduction would now be forced to take action. Either they would have to move her or decide if her death was the preferable option. Lucien knew it was a risk but they had to take it.

  Hangbe, I am coming for you.

  Lucien reached out and lifted Danielle’s chin. “You know, you have been valuable to me this past week. In more ways than one.”

  “Have I?”

  “Your resourcefulness I have relied on. The way you have fallen into the role as my protector. Even the way you apologized to Marianne and Archie, it has been a help to me.”

  “Merci, my prince.”

  The moon reflected in her eyes. The giant white orb’s light gave her a mystical, almost unearthly look. His hands swept down her bare arms, feeling the coolness of the skin from the night wind. Lucien knew he’d always desire her, but what was this other sensation coming upon him? He wanted to gather her close and keep her there.

  “You look lovely in this moonlight, Danielle.” His voice was barely above a whisper. “In the religion of Dahomey, there is a moon goddess by the name of Gleti. She gave birth to the numerous stars in the sky. In my youth, I always wondered what she’d look like if she visited us on earth. I see now, she would like you.”

  Of their own accord, Lucien’s fingers reached out to trace the outline of her lips. The softness of her mouth made him draw in a breath. Danielle did not draw away although her eyes drifted down in sudden shyness.

  “Do you believe such things, my prince?”

  “No, not as I used to,” he answered truthfully. “Having lived in France these past years, the God I have encountered there is more powerful than those gods of my youth. Yet, it is hard to abandon the beliefs of my people; so out of respect for my father, I never forget what I was taught. It is not an ideal situation, but the only one I can live with.”

  Her eyes drifted down. “You are also handsome, my prince. I know I fought against this marriage because of my disdain for the Pinkertons, but I am glad to be at your side.”

  Lucien’s heart picked up in tempo. “Please Danielle,” he pleaded, unashamed to show how much she affected him. “Don’t deny me one kiss. Just tonight, under the moonlight.”

  He recalled how seven years ago, when Brutus and Roseline had introduced all their daughters to him, he’d been riveted to the sight of their youngest and unable to get her out of his mind. Why had he known then that he wanted her? Was it merely desire or something more? Something that had grown within him all these years, waiting for the day when he could explore the depths of this feeling.

  He’d said love outside of family didn’t exist and was instead being used to explain away the potency of desire.

  But why Danielle after all these years? Why was she the only woman he’d wanted although he’d never admitted that to himself? Had he been subconsciously waiting for her until she escaped the safe harbor of her home? If he had not come to the Pinkertons, would he have gone back to Arabette Grove and pursued her?

  “Akaba.” Her eyes shut in surrender and she lifted her head.

  Already he was bending his head, eager to feel the flesh of her lips upon his.

  “So that’s where you are, your Highness.”

  Lucien’s head jerked up, but in one swift motion, Danielle lunged in front of him, body stance in a defensive position, the small knife from her belt in her hand.

  Shielding him from danger.

  His throat constricted at the thought.

  “Please tell your general I have no wish to harm you, your Highness,” Dubois said, raising his hand in a gesture meant to convey peaceful intentions. “I just wanted to take a walk in the gardens. I did not mean to interrupt this… tête-à-tête.”

  Dubois’s eyes glittered in the moonlight as they roved over Danielle’s person.

  “You may leave, Monsieur Dubois.”

  The man glanced back at Lucien with a knowing, hard smile which looked cruel in the light. Then with a little, almost insolent bow, he left.

  They waited with bated breath until the man’s tread grew faint. “He was spying on us, Prince Akaba.”

  Lucien sighed. “Oui, ma reine. He was.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  The door between Akaba’s room and hers was closed. Yet, Danielle could still feel his presence as if he lay in the bed with her.

  Heat seared her cheeks at the thought. This evening at the fountain, she’d succumbed to the lure of the prince. Basking in his appreciation for her, caught up in the intrigues of his world, upset for the lack of concern for his sister’s disappearance, and drawn in by his allure.

  Had Monsieur Dubois not arrived, she would have let him kiss her. Not just let him but would have kissed him back. Perhaps even they would have returned to this room, and maybe—

  Danielle pushed aside the blanket and sheets and rose from the bed. She padded over to the window on bare feet and stared out at the night landscape.

  Had she done that, she would have settled for less than his heart. A man’s desire couldn’t ever be enough. Until the moment she surrendered to his dark mesmeric power, she hadn’t realized just how strong the prince’s allure could be. She’d been swept away by the moonlight, the fountain, the still image of lovers forever clasped in rapture.

  His voice.

  His beauty.

  His essence.

  In that moment, she’d wanted it all. It was then she realized she wanted his heart. Wanted assurance of his love for her. This mission hadn’t started with love in her heart.

  Or had it?

  Frowning, she pressed her forehead on the window, feeling the coolness. Could she have yielded to the prince if there wasn’t more than a passing interest within her? Men had admired her for years, but never once, until now, had she wanted to be kissed and claimed by them in such an overt way. Maybe this kernel of…whatever this was…. had started all those years ago, when the prince had made it clear to her mother that he would have her.

  Roseline had done all she could to prevent her daughter from wanting the prince. It wasn’t enough. Time and distance were overcome and here she was, the protector of his life.

  Maybe her life was predestined. Maybe all signs of control were only illusionary. The path was set and no matter what one did, you could not veer from it.

  Whatever it was, she didn’t know.

  Danielle bowed her head. She would protect the prince’s body from harm as they searched for his sister. It remained to be seen who would protect her heart from him.

  “Your Highness, has your Amazon warrior ever killed any men?”

  Danielle pressed her lips together. No, she hadn’t killed any men, although she did know of a man who was in danger of being the first one she did kill.

  “Why do you ask that?” Akaba queried.

  The newspaper man, whose name was, rather unremarkably, Frank Smith, crossed his legs. “I’ve heard tales of the Negro Amazons. They are as ferocious as men!” He almost salivated at the idea. “I’d love to get a firsthand account.”

  “The mino warriors are trained for all sorts of combat, Mr. Smith. There is nothing more deadly than a woman’s anger and her determination to succeed at any cost. My mino are cable of killing any man. So, you may want to choose your words more carefully.”

  Frank Smith laughed as if sharing in some joke, but Akaba did not return it. Instead, she saw the way he leveled his gaze unflinchingly at the man. Frank’s laughter then turned into a nervous chuckle, and then a hoarse whisper. Before long, he was clearing his throat and looking for the exit.

  “Your Highness, what brings you to Colorado?” Another reporter by the name L. M. Donovan, asked.

  Danielle took in a deep breath but kept still as she stood behind the prince during the conference. It was time to spring the trap.

  “My twin sister, Princess Hangbe, has gone missing from France.”

  Next to him, Messr’s Dubois, St. Martin, and LeBlanc stiffened like hot pokers had gone down their backs.

  “I have it on good authority that she has been smuggled here. I am willing to offer a reward of fifteen thousand francs in providing any information that will lead to our rescue of her.”

  “Fifteen thousand francs?” The reporters in the vestibule of one of the city buildings exclaimed in one voice. “That’s how much in U. S dollars?”

  “A lot,” another report said. “Tell us, what does she look like.”

  Akaba went on to describe her. Danielle watched as the reporters took vigorous notes. Soon, the fifteen-thousand-franc reward would begin to yield the results.

  Briefly, her eyes landed on the French national delegation. Monsieur LeBlanc seemed to have sweat dribbling down his body in streams, his handkerchief merely a damp rag. Monsieur St. Martin’s face remained impassive except for the tiny throb at his temples.

  Monsieur Dubois looked furious.

  After the reporters had gathered the information they needed for their newspapers—after all, how often did an African royal come to the territory? — the conference ended.

  The carriage ride back to Lady Dallmann’s residence was rife with tension. No one said anything. When they arrived back, Lady Dallmann greeted them and led them to a study stacked with shelves of book and comfortable settees and hard-backed chairs.

  “May I interest you all in some refreshments?”

  “No, thank you, Lady Dallmann,” Monsieur Dubois declined with a tight smile.

  “Your Highness?”

  Akaba refused and the woman withdrew, shutting the door behind her.

  When the lock clicked into place, Monsieur Dubois whirled around. “What is the meaning of this, Prince Akaba? You told us last evening that you’d give us three days.”

  With a supreme disregard, the prince leaned in an insolent manner into the comfort of a red velvet cushioned chair, its high back reminiscent of a throne. The contrast of the red with the rich darkness of his skin presented an appreciative picture. Though dressed in his garb as a Dahomey royal, the breeding of both his country and France sat well on him.

  A fine specimen of the male form.

  “I changed my mind.”

  An angry flush darkened Monsieur Dubois’s face.

  “Your Highness,” Monsieur St. Martin leaned forward, lighting a cigar he’d brought with him, “we’re going to receive a number of false sightings. It will take days to even corroborate the veracity of one false sighting.”

  “And each one disputed will bring us a step closer to finding the princess.” Akaba’s eyes gleamed with triumph.

  “You shouldn’t have done this! Sacre bleu!” Monsieur Dubois thundered, his fist clenched. “Now we will have the American government involved in this. It will become public property of the world.”

  In clipped tones, the prince responded, “Then you should have worked harder.”

  Monsieur Dubois seethed noisily through his teeth and those blue eyes, which had continually gazed at her with lust the night before, now bulged with icy contempt.

 

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