A PICTURE-PERFECT CRIME

Princess Lara Kincade returned home to New Orleans to continue her late husband’s humanitarian work. She also hopes to force his killer out of hiding. But a priceless painting has put her plans—and life—at risk. Embroiled in a deadly art scandal, Lara must depend on handsome photojournalist Gabriel Murdock to help her expose a murderer. Gabriel’s determination to keep her safe has softened her heart to love’s possibilities again. Somewhere among his photos lies the identity of the murderer, but can they uncover the killer before this heist turns deadly?

“You’ve got me right where you want me, Princess.

And you know I can’t walk away.”

“You mean, not without your story?”

Gabriel got up and came around the table, then lifted her out of her chair. “No, Princess, I can’t leave because of you.”

He saw a new kind of fear in her eyes. A fear of having loved and lost. “I don’t know what you mean.”

He tugged her close. “Yes, you do. You’re a smart woman. Surely you can see it?”

She lowered her gaze. “See what?”

“This,” he said, his fingers lifting her chin. “This, Lara.”

LENORA WORTH

has written more than forty books for three different publishers. Her career with Love Inspired Books spans close to fifteen years. In February 2011 her Love Inspired Suspense novel Body of Evidence made the New York Times bestseller list. Her very first Love Inspired title, The Wedding Quilt, won Affaire de Coeur’s Best Inspirational for 1997, and Logan’s Child won an RT Book Reviews Best Love Inspired for 1998. With millions of books in print, Lenora continues to write for the Love Inspired and Love Inspired Suspense lines. Lenora also wrote a weekly opinion column for the local paper and worked freelance for years with a local magazine. She has now turned to full-time fiction writing and enjoying adventures with her retired husband, Don. Married for thirty-six years, they have two grown children. Lenora enjoys writing, reading and shopping…especially shoe shopping.

In Pursuit of a Princess

Lenora Worth

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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What is my trespass? What is my sin, that thou hast so hotly pursued after me?

—Genesis 31:36

To Lavender and Landry—two special princesses!

Contents

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

DEAR READER

QUESTIONS FOR DISCUSSION

EXCERPT

ONE

“You’ll probably get bored following me around, Mr. Murdock.”

Gabriel managed a smile, his gaze traveling over the regal woman standing in front of him. “I can’t imagine that, Princess Lara. Many men would give their eye teeth to have my job right now.”

The princess stiffened at that comment. “I’m well aware of the paparazzi camped out down near the front gate, Mr. Murdock. Those photographers are more than willing to sell their souls—and mine—for a picture of me. Why, I’ll never comprehend. I’ve accepted that, but I don’t have to like it. However, having a photojournalist follow me around day by day is going to be a bit daunting. And as I said, you’ll get bored. My life is not as exciting as the tabloids seem to think.”

Gabriel didn’t want to feel sorry for the beautiful woman standing by the fireplace, but the grief and doubt on her face did look real. And she had suffered a great loss. “I’m sorry,” he said, wondering why he felt the need, “about your husband. In spite of my being a skeptic of the worst kind, I do believe you two were the real deal.”

She turned and stood against the backdrop of the marble fireplace and an exquisite painting of an Arcadian village over the mantel, her expressive blue-green eyes holding him. “We loved each other. I don’t care what the rest of the world thinks.”

Or him. She didn’t really care what he thought. And Gabriel didn’t blame the woman. He’d read up on his subject enough to know the details. American heiress falls for European prince and the whole world goes wild with fascination at this match made in ratings heaven. In spite of the odds, they get married and will supposedly live happily ever after. But five years into their picture-perfect marriage, the prince is killed in a hunting accident. And the beautiful young princess is left grief-stricken and alone, to carry on their good works all over the world.

A widow for over two years now, Her Royal Highness Princess Lara Barrington Kincade had come home to New Orleans to continue her charitable work by holding an art fundraiser to benefit the Kincade Foundation and to continue building Kincade houses for the HRH Theodore Kincade Home Restoration Project in New Orleans.

Gabriel glanced up at the massive painting over the fireplace. He’d seen pictures of it in displays and magazines. A Benoit, painted in the late-nineteenth century by the French artist Jacques Benoit. An authentic representation of the Arcadians who’d been forced out of Nova Scotia in 1755, but depicted in New Orleans in the true Arcadian art theme of a place of contentment and harmony. This, and the title Arcadian Dreams, made the painting bittersweet. A village within a dream—two distinct themes in one painting. And worth a lot of money, if his guess was right.

“The Benoit is stunning,” he said to take her mind off the masses pushing at the gate. He noted a blinking light on the wall over the painting. A sensor for protection, no doubt.

“Yes.” She turned to glance up at the painting. “It was a wedding gift from my husband.”

So this was how her life played out. Priceless artwork and never-ending philanthropic events.

Gabriel had been assigned to follow the princess around and produce a photo spread with accompanying content. Right now she was preparing for a big art auction and reception to benefit Kincade House. He was supposed to be grateful that he’d been “given” this opportunity at the national magazine where he’d worked for ten years. “Given” being the loose term for punishment. According to his editor at Real World News, Gabriel had gone rogue one too many times to get the pictures and story he wanted.

Nothing like getting the job done while rubbing a third-world dictator and the Secretary of State the wrong way in order to get the best shots. But that wasn’t why he’d been banished to New Orleans to do a fluff piece. He didn’t want to think about the real reason he’d agreed to take this easy assignment.

Gabriel searched for the truth and he told it in his award-winning photographs and tell-it-like-it-is text. While the magazine owner and his editor had published his latest exposé with unabashed glee, they still had to make him pay to save face with the government.

And this was their way of doing that. This was torture for a true reporter and photojournalist. But what a beautiful torture.

Remembering another woman in another place, he put on a blank expression and tried not to chafe at being in such a straightlaced setting.

“Call me Gabriel,” he said, thinking even though this was child’s play, at least the subject matter was...lovely to look at. The princess was honey-blonde and photogenic, no doubt about that. But Gabriel wanted to get down to the real woman behind that chignon and those designer pumps.

“Gabriel,” she said, coming to sit down on the settee across from the overstuffed chair where he’d landed. “So I understand you have a home here in New Orleans, too.”

“Yes.” He nodded, stared at the hot tea growing cold in front of him. “I grew up here, and when my mother died, I inherited a town house in the Quarter. So it’s not far from your home. One of the many reasons this assignment enticed me.”

That much was true at least. He didn’t mind some downtime in New Orleans. Good food, good jazz and a mirror of his own conflicted soul. Now he had a beautiful woman to admire, too.

“I’m sorry about your mother. Were you close?”

He wanted to say no, not really. His artistic, temperamental mother had stayed single and had never told him who his father was. Maybe that was why he’d become so nomadic. Seemed he was always searching for the truth. Instead he said, “We grew to be close as we both matured.”

She smiled at that. “Sometimes, growing up is hard work.”

“Yes.” He didn’t want to discuss his relationship with his mother. “Anyway, I have the town house here. So I’ll have my darkroom and some other equipment stashed away.”

“That’s convenient,” she said, sipping her tea with her pinkie precisely in the right place. “My parents bought this house when I was a toddler. They split their time between New Orleans and several foreign locations since my father was a diplomat—great for them and educational for me. After they retired and moved to Virginia, they left this house to Theo and me. We spent part of our honeymoon here.” Her vivid eyes went blank for a second. “I rarely get back here but this fundraiser is important. I want to continue the work Theo and I started in New Orleans.”

Gabriel finally lifted the tea and took a swallow. Bitter and tangy, the tepid liquid coated his dry throat. “New Orleans will certainly benefit from your efforts. This city needs all the help it can get after that flurry of hurricanes a few years back.”

She inclined her head, her pearl teardrop earrings trembling against her skin. “We started this foundation a year after the last big hurricane.”

Gabriel glanced around the big square parlor. “Did your home suffer any damage?”

“A good bit, but we moved most of the artwork before the storm and when we returned we rebuilt the house. I have a friend who rents the carriage house, but she’s on her honeymoon right now. Esther married a renowned adventurer and archaeologist—Cullen Murphy. You might have heard of him?”

Gabriel grinned. “Heard of him and had the pleasure of meeting him and the lovely Esther when we did a magazine shoot on the Levi-Lafitte Chocolate Diamond. They mentioned several locations in New Orleans, but obviously left your estate out for the sake of privacy. Amazing find, that.”

“Yes, Esther told me all about their big adventure. Lots of danger and intrigue, but they found the diamond and now it’s in a museum in Washington, I believe.”

“That’s right. So you know Esther and Cullen. It’s a small world.”

“Too small at times,” she said.

When a nearby cell phone rang, she excused herself and hurried to pick it up, surprising Gabriel. He figured she had servants in every corner to take care of such tasks. He’d already met one of them, a strange little lady who had introduced herself as Deidre. Deidre had brought him into this room and...disappeared immediately. He’d seen others, bodyguards and drivers and security teams. He’d been fully vetted before he could even take on this assignment and then a nice burly escort had met him, frisked him and brought him here. Gabriel had no doubt he was being watched even now.

“Hello?” Princess Lara turned toward him with an apologetic smile. “Hello?” Frowning, she hung up. “Wrong number.”

Gabriel wondered about that and why Deidre wasn’t fielding the phone calls. “Could be. Or maybe the photographers lined up outside are taking turns to see if you’re still in the house.”

“I told Deidre I was expecting some very important calls, but if this keeps up I’ll have to let her run interference.”

Ah, that explained that, then. A self-sufficient princess. He liked her already. But she could be a bit naive, too. “You know the paparazzi have a way of getting even the most private of numbers.”

She came to sit back down, a pretty frown marring her face. “You know all the tricks, I see.”

“A few.” He finished off the tea, then stared over at her. “But I want you to understand, while I’m trailing around after you, I will respect your privacy and your work. You’ll have full approval on any and all photographs that make the cut for RWN magazine as well as the accompanying content, I can assure you.”

She did the chin-lifting thing again—her way of nodding, he decided. “And when will we officially begin?”

Gabriel looked at his watch. “I’m on the clock right now.”

She stood as if to dismiss him but stopped. “Would you like to stay for dinner? We can go over my schedule. It can be a bit daunting if you’re not used to it.”

Surprised, Gabriel shrugged. He had to eat. Might as well get to know her over good food. “If it’s not too much trouble, I’d appreciate that. I like to be prepared so, yes, a schedule would be great.”

“I’ll go and tell my assistant to ready our meal, then.”

Gabriel wondered if he wanted to eat anything cooked by Deidre. The little woman was so somber and skittish, she gave him the creeps. And it took a lot to scare Gabriel Murdock.

Maybe he should be more wary of the princess he was about to get to know on a personal level. After all, beauty and grace could hide a multitude of sins.

* * *

The man was sinfully handsome.

Lara took another bite of the catfish smothered in crawfish étouffée, her stomach almost recoiling at the rich New Orleans food. Her nerves weren’t the best these days. Since Theo’s death, she’d been an emotional wreck and her doctors had given her more sedatives and antidepressant pills than she cared to remember. But the pills didn’t help the never-ending ache in her heart. She pretended to take them, but most of the prescribed medication went down the drain. She had to have a clear head for the task ahead.

Tonight, she thought this distress might have more to do with the man sitting beside her at the antique Queen Anne table than the spicy food or a lack of pills. But those annoying hang-up calls hadn’t helped her nerves, either.

Gabriel Murdock ate the food with gusto, his manners impeccable even while he enjoyed each bite. He was buff and in shape, so he could afford the spicy sauce and crusty catfish. His hair was dark and curly, with just a hint of gray near the temples. His eyes were an interesting shade of brown—almost golden at times. She’d heard many tales regarding the renowned photojournalist, some of them good and some of them bad. “Infamous” was how Deidre had described him. He traveled light and often, never stayed in one place for long and was rumored to be one of the best at getting a story with just one shot of his camera. But he had also been involved in exposing corruption and righting wrongs by being nosy. Malcolm had thoroughly researched the man, but had given his okay to this assignment.

“He’ll be aware and on high alert,” Malcolm had told her. Apparently these were impressive qualities in a good photojournalist. “He tends to dig deep to get his stories.”

Deidre, on the other hand, warned Lara almost immediately.

“You’d best watch out for that one, ma’am,” her overprotective assistant had cautioned. “Especially since you refused to bring a full detail with us.”

“I’ll be perfectly fine,” Lara had replied. “I don’t want guards hovering around me day and night. Our smaller team is sufficient. I need some freedom for a change.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

But Lara knew that the guards were out there somewhere, watching in spite of her need to break free. She wasn’t so complacent as to think they had let her get away with her request so easily. She would always be a member of the royal family, even if her husband was no longer alive. She owned a mansion full of priceless artifacts and antiques, too. And that meant protection, since even now she had death threats and stalkers and all sorts of other worries to consider. Now was not the best time to have a photographer trailing her, but it couldn’t be helped. She needed publicity for her cause. She’d have to be very careful about what she revealed to him, however.

But this one—Gabriel—seemed capable of handling anything they might encounter together. The man had been embedded with American troops in the Middle East, had trailed drug lords and terrorists undercover through the jungle to get the real story. He seemed to be content and confident in his own skin, even if his eyes did hold a rim of sadness. Lara felt a strange sense of peace, the first real peace she’d felt since Theo’s death.

“This is really good,” Gabriel said now. “My compliments to the chef.”

“We have a good friend who is an accomplished chef,” Lara replied, happy that he approved of the cuisine. “Even though Deidre is an excellent cook, Herbert insists on cooking for me when I’m in town. He so enjoyed teaching Theo all about Creole and Cajun cooking and the difference between the two.”

“Spoken like a true Louisiana soul,” Gabriel replied. “Did your husband enjoy eating the local dishes?”

“Oh, yes. He was willing to try anything. Even alligator meat and frog legs—I’ve never managed to acquire a taste for either.”

The room went quiet as she remembered the good times she’d had with Theo. Finally, she glanced over at Gabriel and realized he’d put down his fork. “I’m so sorry. It’s just...I miss him.”

“I understand.” He pushed his plate away. “From everything I’ve seen and heard, he was a good man.”

“The best.” She blinked away her grief with a quick flutter of her lashes and a flash of regret in her expression. “Now, let’s move on, shall we? We have a lot to discuss. I’ll show you some of the other art pieces—some I own and others on loan for the reception we’ll hold here before the official show in the Quarter. As you know, I intend to be in New Orleans for at least three months. How long do you plan to...shadow me?”

He gave her a direct look. “I have the whole month.”

One month, weeks and weeks, with this nice-looking man. Lara had to wonder if they’d get along, or if they’d wind up getting on each other’s nerves.

“Don’t look so glum,” he said, as if reading her mind. “I don’t bite. I know my job and I know my place.”

She shook her head. “But I want you to feel comfortable. I want you to get the story right. You know, a lot of people think I’m just interfering, trying to get publicity or pity, anything you can think of. They can’t seem to grasp that I lived here for many years and I want to give back to the place I love.”

“I don’t care what other people think,” he replied. “I’m here to follow you and to capture that essence that makes the world so fascinated with you.”

“I’m not so sure I have an essence,” she retorted, embarrassed by the way he looked at her. “I do care or I wouldn’t be here.”

“I believe you.”

“Then let’s get started. I’ll have Deidre bring dessert and we’ll eat while we compare.”

For the next couple of hours they nibbled on their mini-fruit tarts and drank more coffee while they went over the details of the next week.

Finally, Lara glanced up and noticed the time. “It’s close to eleven. You must be exhausted.”

“No, I’m good.”

He gave her that look again, the one that made her blush. Was he one of those night owls who needed little sleep?

“But I imagine you’re tired.”

“I am rather fatigued,” she said, patting at her hair. She longed for a bubble bath and a good night’s sleep.

They both stood up and Lara was about to escort him to the door when Deidre walked in with a package. “Ma’am, I found this at the back door.”

“The back door? That’s odd. No one alerted us.” Lara took the square box and began to open it, thinking it might be the stationery she’d ordered from her favorite local paperie. “Do you mind if I check on this?” she asked Gabriel. “This might be the addressed invitations for the gala and silent auction we’re having at an old mansion in the Quarter. We had a typo in the first batch, so they were going to do a rush order to get them here in time.”

“Of course not.” He sat back and studied his notes.

Deidre watched as Lara tugged at the box. “I’ll put it away after you’re finished, ma’am.”

Lara pulled back the tissue paper and gasped, then backed against a chair, the box still in her hands.

Gabriel jumped up and grabbed the box. “That’s not invitations.”

Deidre peered over into the open package. “Oh, my. Oh, ma’am, I’m so sorry. I’ll take it away immediately.”

Lara nodded, put her hand to her throat. “Yes, please do.”

“No, don’t touch it.” Gabriel pushed Deidre away. “We need to alert security.”

“No. I don’t think—”

“Yes,” Gabriel said. “Just as a precaution.”

After Deidre turned away to pull out her phone, Lara regained some of her composure and stared up at Gabriel. “I think someone is trying to warn me away from New Orleans.”

He frowned, his gaze centered on her. “I think you might be right.”

She closed her eyes and thought about what she’d seen in that box. It was just superstition, nothing else. Or had the horror she’d feared started already? Had her tormentor already arrived in New Orleans?

Gabriel seemed to be as concerned as she was. He took her hand away, forcing her to open her eyes. “Who do you know that would send you a voodoo doll with a pin through the heart, Princess?”

TWO

“Really, this isn’t necessary.”

Gabriel glanced over at Lara Kincade, surprised that she had not wanted to call her security team or the police. He and Deidre had finally convinced her to call her head of security.

“But it is. You have to take these things seriously even if you think they’re pranks.” He studied the little satin-covered doll with the big blue eyes and the blond yarn hair. “A voodoo doll is a signal, prank or no prank.”

“I get this sort of ‘signal’ all the time,” she said, one arm wrapped around her waist, propping up the other arm she had lifted to her face. She stood just that way, her fingers curled against her chin, while she studied the red-satin-lined box with the odd-looking little figurine lying inside. “When I was young, I saw one of these in a store window down in the Quarter. I begged for it, but my mother refused to let me have it. She told me it wasn’t the kind of doll with which a little girl should play.”

“It’s not the kind of doll a grown woman should fool around with, either,” Gabriel replied, his English not nearly as proper as hers. But then, he’d practically grown up down in the Quarter. He’d learned street smarts long before he’d studied photography, and he’d learned how to read people long before he’d studied journalism. And something about the woman standing in front of him didn’t wash. She was too calm, too practiced. “You can’t take any chances.”

“They’re on the way,” Deidre said as she bustled around the room with a cell phone in her hand, her dark eyes wide with concern. “Ma’am, I’m so sorry.”

“Deidre, you did nothing wrong,” Lara replied, her eyes still on the package. “Stop apologizing and please stop pacing.”

Deidre skidded on the spot but looked anxious all the same. “I should have waited until we’d had the package checked by one of the guards. I know the protocol.”

“Deidre, remind me again—you didn’t see who delivered this?” Gabriel said.

Deidre looked at him, then glanced toward the princess.

“Go ahead, answer him,” Lara said on a gentle voice. “He’s here to observe and take pictures, but he might be able to help.”

“I didn’t see anyone, and Herbert has already gone home so we can’t ask him.”

“Maybe we can call him. He might have taken the package.” Gabriel wanted to reassure the girl. “I’m trying to piece things together before we call the police.”

“The police?” Lara glared at him and shook her head. “I told you, no police. My head of security—”

A door down the hallway burst open and a tall bull of a man with tight graying curls muscled his way into the room. “Your Highness, we’ve alerted the team. We’ve got guards stationed all around the property.”

“—is here right now.” Lara moved away from the offending package but waved her hand toward it. “Thank you, Malcolm. There it is. This is what all the fuss is about. Quite silly, honestly.”

Malcolm glanced at the voodoo doll, then turned to stare at Gabriel. “What’s your take?”

Gabriel lifted his eyebrows, surprised that anyone cared about his thoughts on this. He didn’t want to be involved in whatever was going on. He’d already met Malcolm Plankston through a thorough vetting interview that had left him wondering if the man would even let him go on with his assignment. Apparently, he’d been approved. “I take it very seriously,” he said. “I’ve encouraged Princess Lara to call the police.”

“And I’ve discouraged that notion,” Lara retorted. “It’s another of those odd pranks people tend to play on me. Some of the locals don’t appreciate my interest in rebuilding New Orleans. They tend to forget that I lived here for many years myself.”

“I agree with Mr. Murdock,” Malcolm said. “The authorities need to hear about this. You’ve stirred up publicity with this art fundraiser and the public knows you’re here. You’re vulnerable.”

“No,” Lara said, shaking her head. “The local police will laugh in my face and tell me this is just someone’s way of welcoming me home. You know how they scorn my presence here. They think I’m just another celebrity wanting media attention. I won’t bring them in on this and that’s final.”

Gabriel knew not to argue with a woman who stood tapping her expensive-looking leather pump against the polished wood floor. And he knew not to overstep his position by urging her head of security to go against her wishes.

Malcolm lifted the doll with a pair of tweezers that somehow appeared out of nowhere. Probably from inside Deidre’s deep pockets. The woman kept pulling things out of each one like a magician pulling rabbits out of a hat.

“Odd little thing,” Malcolm said, his mustache twitching while he seemed to stop blinking. “I’ll take it out to the shop and analyze it, but I think it’s harmless.” He dropped the doll, then turned to the princess. “I won’t call in the New Orleans police this time, Your Highness. But if anything else out of the ordinary occurs, I will have to do my duty and report it.”

“Agreed,” Lara replied, clearly relieved that she wouldn’t have to deal with anyone else official tonight. “I promise I’ll keep you apprised. Deidre and I will be diligent on that account, I can assure you.”

Malcolm cast a furrowed glance toward Deidre. “I assume you will make sure this never happens again.”

Deidre’s eyes misted. “You have my word on that, sir.”

“Good,” Malcolm the Intimidator said in his firm, gruff, no-nonsense voice. “Your position here could very well depend on it.”

Lara walked around the desk and took Deidre’s hand. “It’s all right. You are not going to be dismissed. Go on to bed and get some rest. I’ll be fine.”

Deidre rushed out of the room, her brown ponytail bouncing, her walnut-colored loafers squeaking.

Lara had a serene look on her face when she reached out her left hand and placed it on Malcolm’s gray wool suit. “Don’t ever reprimand Deidre in that way again, Mr. Plankston. Do I make myself clear?”

Malcolm swallowed, gulped and nodded. “I meant no disrespect, ma’am.”

“Good night, Malcolm.”

And the man was officially dismissed.

Which left Gabriel alone with a princess. An ice princess.

“Impressive,” he said, rocking back and forth on his boots. “I’ll have to remember not to get on your bad side.”

She gave him an emerald-tinged stare. “Deidre has been with me since the day I married Theo. She’s a dear girl—not much younger than me, really—a bit shy but very efficient. I won’t have Malcolm bullying her since his team seemed to have entirely missed this delivery’s arrival. He knows this wasn’t her fault. I’m the one who insisted on relaxing my security while I’m here. I’m the one who wanted a little more privacy and a lot less formality.”

Gabriel could understand her need for privacy, and he was pretty sure she should learn to relax a little more. But she was a princess, after all. “You’re known the world over. Privacy is a hard commodity to come by, especially when someone as famous and well loved as you comes to New Orleans. That’s the proverbial fishbowl way of living, Your Highness.”

“That is a way of living that I have found very wearisome, Mr. Murdock. And please, call me Lara.”

“As long as you call me Gabriel,” he reminded her with a soft twist of a smile. “And it’s time for me to go, too. Are you sure—”

“I’m fine. If I know Malcolm, he’ll have a guard at the front door to make sure you get out safely and I stay in safely. I’ll show you out.”

She walked him to the door, her heels clicking in a dainty princess way. “I suppose I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“That’s the plan.” He turned and took her hand. “Thank you for tea and dinner and...a bit of excitement.”

“Don’t get used to that,” she said on a soft smile. “My life is not as exciting as the world might think.”

Gabriel bid her good-night, thinking she was wrong on that.

And as he tipped his hand to the burly guard hovering on the front veranda, he was pretty sure the excitement was just beginning.

* * *

Lara sat at her dressing table in her upstairs bedroom, staring at her reflection in the mirror. With no makeup and her hair down around her shoulders, she looked drawn and fatigued. Not exactly the image the world wanted to see.

She didn’t care about that right now. She only saw the shadow of a mourning widow in her gilded mirror. And so much more. How did she explain to the world that she was tired of being a princess and that she only wanted to be herself, free and unencumbered by rules and protocol and regulations and proper procedures?

Lara turned from her brocade-covered stool and tugged her cashmere robe around her. It was early spring in the South, but the nights could still be cool. She paced over the hundred-year-old, hand-woven rug centered in the sitting area of the big, comfortable bedroom then went to the French doors and stared out into the back garden. Her mind fluttered here and there like a butterfly.

Esther and Cullen had gotten married right here in the garden. She’d insisted on giving them a reception to remember, and they’d pulled it off without too many problems with the media. Friends of a princess getting married didn’t carry nearly as much weight as a princess getting married. Or remarried. The tabloids had a new story every week on that one. By the latest count, she should have been remarried about four times at least.

But she had yet even to go out with a man, let alone consider marrying one.

She thought of Gabriel Murdock and felt a strange tapping in her heart. He was certainly handsome in a swarthy, swaggering way. The man looked like a map of life, world-weary and scarred, well traveled and frayed, and interesting.

Too interesting. When he’d taken her hand, a pleasant warmth had moved through her and reminded her she was still a woman.

Her cell hummed. She didn’t recognize the number. “Hello?”

“I got your invitation.”

“And I got your gift. You can’t scare me.”

“I’m not trying to scare you. I’m trying to help you.”

“By threatening me?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

Lara put her hand to her heart. “Good, because you have the answers I need, so I won’t fall for any tricks. I’ll see you at the gala.” She let out a breath. “And please quit making hang-up calls. It’s juvenile.”

“Is that all you have to say after all this time, Lara?”

“Yes. Good night.”

Lara moved around the room, turning off lamps, her hands trembling. She kept going back over the day’s activities, wondering how that package had gotten past security. And wondering how he had found her private cell number.

Putting her unwanted guest out of her mind for now, Lara regrouped and looked at her day-planner. Today had been busy, but tomorrow would be jam-packed. And she’d have Gabriel Murdock trailing her with every task. Was she really ready for that kind of up-close scrutiny? And by a man who seemed to read her like a book and look through her carefully controlled facade to see her deepest, darkest fears and secrets?

She thought about the man who’d just called her. It had been a long time since she’d seen him or heard from him. And she’d been biding her time until she could see him once again. “I can do this,” she whispered. “I have to do this.”

A shudder tiptoed down her spine.

“Remain calm and carry on,” she repeated. That used to be a joke between Theo and her. It was the mantra of a great queen and it did apply to the average commoner, too.

“That’s me,” Lara whispered as she climbed in bed and tugged at the last light. The room went dark on her fears and worries. She’d been a commoner, but a wealthy, well-heeled one at that. Money and prestige could open a lot of doors. Having a social pedigree that went back to the founding fathers didn’t hurt, either. But even so, when the announcement of her marriage had been made, she’d been analyzed, studied, prodded and trained in everything from etiquette to speaking in public to greeting people to writing a proper thank-you card, all of which her mother had already trained her on anyway.

Being a princess was much harder than being a woman.

Right now, however, she mentally pushed her princess away and, being a woman, thought about the fascinating man with whom she’d shared her dinner. And wondered why she’d invited him to stay for a meal. That hadn’t been on the agenda.

But then, neither had receiving that hideous gift. The voodoo doll only brought back bad memories of other times when she’d been afraid and full of doubts. Maybe this had nothing to do with that. Or it could have everything to do with that and the phone call she’d just received. She missed Theo, but she was determined to live life on her own terms. And she was determined to find answers to the questions that had haunted her since Theo’s death.

Obviously, after receiving that cryptic call, she understood the little voodoo doll had something to do with her nosing around where she shouldn’t.

Lara punched her pillow, hating this time of the day when she felt so alone, so lonely, so unsure of anything but how much she missed her husband. Telling herself to get a grip, she pushed out of her mind that image of the little grinning doll with the pin stabbed through her heart.

“You can’t pierce my heart,” she whispered to the night. “My heart has already been broken.”

But she intended to find the man who’d killed Theo. And she intended to do that here in New Orleans, with the world watching.

She drifted off to sleep thinking of her husband and Gabriel Murdock. Trying to hold one close in her memories and trying to push the other one back into a proper place, she finally went from being awake to being in a dream that ran through her head like a vivid movie, complete with voodoo and warnings from Deidre and Malcolm and with a man standing in the shadows, holding a camera.

The man called to her and Lara tried to reach him. He threw down the camera and reached out a hand. But she couldn’t quite grasp his fingers.

She woke up near dawn thinking of her husband.

But the man in the dream had been Gabriel Murdock.

Lara lay there pushing at the covers, her body still exhausted from running through that mist, her memories as wild and colorful as the images in her mind.

A piercing scream sounded through the night, bringing her up and out of her bed. Grabbing her robe, Lara rushed to her door and followed the hallway to the sound of the scream.

Deidre’s room.

But before Lara could open the door, Malcolm and two bodyguards were there with guns drawn.

“Step back, Your Highness,” Malcolm said, his beefy arm blocking her way. “It might not be safe.”

He knocked and called out. “Deidre?”

No answer.

“Go and check on her,” Lara demanded, impatient with the head of security.

Malcolm motioned to the two guards. They were about to break the door down when Deidre opened it and ran straight into Lara’s arms.

“What happened?” Lara asked, holding the younger woman.

Deidre lifted up, her dark eyes wide, her hair unbound and curly around her face. “I heard a noise on the upstairs balcony, ma’am. Someone walking, I’m sure. Then I saw a shadow near my window.”

Lara held tight to the frightened girl. “Are you sure?”

Deidre bobbed her head, her words shaky. “Very sure. A man was standing there.”

Malcolm put his big arms across his chest. “So you screamed?”

“Yes.”

“But you didn’t answer when we came to the door.”

“I was still frightened.”

He motioned again to the two men. “Search the balcony and the grounds.”

Lara took Deidre by the arm, her own jitters making her shaky. “Come with me. We’ll sit awhile and I’ll make us some chamomile tea.”

Deidre looked mortified. “Ma’am, you don’t need to wait on me. I’m...okay.”

“You are not okay,” Lara countered. “Malcolm, we’re going down to the kitchen. Could you make sure a guard is nearby while we brew our tea?”

“Certainly, Your Highness. But please let us secure the house before you wander around.”

Lara nodded. “Deidre, let’s get you a robe from your room.”

The girl followed Lara into the room and stood by the door, staring out into the night. “I saw a man there, Miss Lara. I promise.”

“I believe you,” Lara replied. She helped Deidre with her robe. “Did the man try to get into your room?”

“No. He just stood there. When I screamed, he ran away.”

Lara took in the information but said nothing. She wouldn’t allow Deidre to see her fears. That might put the girl over the edge.

But when they were turning to leave the room, something caught Lara’s eye. “Just a moment, Deidre. Stay there by the door, please.”

Deidre nodded. Lara walked to the open door that led out onto the balcony, careful to stay on the edge of the sheer lace curtains. Peeking around the lace, she saw something through the moonlight, lying there on the planked floor. The guards had rushed right past it. Another package, this one bigger than the first one.

Another delivery. But how in the world had the intruder planned to get that box inside? And what if he’d been looking for her room instead of Deidre’s?

THREE

Gabriel knew something was wrong the minute he rounded the corner the next morning. He’d taken the streetcar to RWN magazine and then walked the rest of the way to the Kincade estate since it was such a gorgeous spring day.

But that notion ended when he saw two NOPD cruisers parked inside the gated driveway and a whole passel of reporters and onlookers stationed outside the closed gate. Pulling out the smaller of his two cameras and his phone, he dialed Deidre’s cell so she could open the gate for him. He held the phone to one ear, clicked away and got some one-handed shots of the cruisers and the growing crowd at the gate.

But Deidre didn’t answer. A male voice greeted him. “Hello?”

“Uh, I was looking for Deidre Wilder. I’m Gabriel Murdock. I have an appointment with Princess Lara this morning.”

“Hold on.” He heard shuffling and voices. “You’re clear. Someone will come and escort you inside.”

“Uh, thanks.”

Gabriel shifted his equipment pack and bypassed the other photographers gathered beyond the gate, then waited where he could see the entryway. When a uniformed officer came out and punched in the code for the walk-through gate next to the driveway, there was a rush of people behind Gabriel.

The officer held up his hand. “Sorry, no one else allowed. This man has special clearance.”

Moans and groans and foul language ensued behind Gabriel, followed by desperate questions: “Was anything stolen last night? Is the princess safe in New Orleans? Why are you here? Was anyone arrested? Will the princess make a statement to the press?”

Gathering that there had been a break-in attempt last night, Gabriel hurried through the gate and didn’t look back at the agitated crowd. He’d been in worse jams. And he did have an official pass, which he flashed at the officer just for good measure.

But getting special treatment had stirred up the paparazzi. He’d probably hear about this in the news later.

“What happened?” he asked the stoic officer, hoping to verify what he’d heard from the reporters at the gate.

“An intruder last night.”

And that would be all he’d get from that one. “Thanks.”

He made his way behind the policeman into the side entrance, where a small porch was tucked behind a heavy canopy of banana fronds. This entryway led to the mudroom and kitchen.

And that was where he found Lara sitting with Deidre.

“Good morning,” he said, glancing around at the guards and police officers. “Brunch?”

Lara got up, her expression as serene as ever, her hair back in its chignon, her light blue linen pantsuit not daring to wrinkle. “We had a scare last night. Deidre saw someone on one of the upstairs balconies, out by her window.” She glanced around, then lowered her voice. “He left another package.”

Not good news. “What was in the package?”

She shrugged, gathered her arms against her stomach. “It’s another oddity.” Motioning toward the breakfast table, she walked him over. “Sit down and I’ll get you some coffee and explain.”

Deidre, looking drawn and unkempt, jumped up. “Let me do that, ma’am.”

Lara nodded, then sank into a cushioned chair. Gabriel sat down across from her. In the bright sunlight coming through the wall-to-wall bay windows that gave a full view of the back garden, she looked tired and...lost. Still lovely, but at least now he knew she was fairly normal. Wasn’t everyone tired and lost anyway?

“The box, Lara?”

She sent a quick glance toward the swarm of men roaming up and down the stairs. “We can’t go up to see it. They’re taking photos and logging it as evidence. And they don’t want us to disturb the scene—which really is only the balcony and the package.”

“So the package is still where someone found it?”

“I saw it after I heard Deidre screaming. It was left on the balcony outside her room.”

She waited until Deidre brought him coffee and a plate with muffins and cheese. The fidgety girl took her own dishes to the sink and busied herself with cleaning the kitchen. Lara continued, “It’s a replica of one of the art pieces I showed you last night. The Benoit.” She stopped, shook her head.

“But?”

She blinked, looked away to the right. “But it’s not really the same portrait. I know it looks familiar but I can’t place it. It’s as if someone is trying to copy the Benoit’s style.”

Gabriel’s instincts kicked in and he got that coiling knot inside his stomach, the knot he always got when he was onto something no one had been expecting. “Did anyone else see this intruder?”

“No. Deidre saw a shadow. The person ran when she screamed.”

“Do you know if Deidre talked to Herbert about the first package?”

Looking surprised, she shook her head. “Deidre mentioned that this morning, but no. He didn’t answer her calls or messages.”

Deidre had brought her the first package last night. No one else had seen that one delivered. And Deidre hadn’t been able to get in touch with the chef last night to see what he might know.

Now Deidre had seen an intruder who’d conveniently left yet another package near her room? Coincidence or carefully planned attack?

Gabriel didn’t believe in coincidences.

No wonder the girl scurried and jumped like a squirrel. She was obviously in on this gig. But why?

“So this replica—what is it? What’s it about?”

Lara leaned forward. “It’s another Arcadian dream. A group of Arcadians gathered by a large boat. The boat is sailing away through clouds and cherubs. Shepherds are watching from the sky. It’s a sad portrait of the hardship the Arcadians had to endure, wrapped inside a beautiful dream.”

He nodded. “Yes. So someone obviously knows you own a Benoit. And that it’s worth close to a million dollars.”

She lifted her chin in acknowledgment. “Yes. This one reminds me of that. Same technique, same dreamlike Arcadia backdrop with the Louisiana Arcadians featured. A pretty good representation but—”

“But what?” Gabriel felt the hairs on the back of his neck rising. A sure sign that this was bigger than just following around a princess. Suddenly, he had a real story going. But this wasn’t supposed to be complicated. He wasn’t ready for complicated again. Not yet.

“Oh, my.” She got up, paced the floor, cast several covert glances over her shoulder.

He followed her. “Lara, tell me so I can help.”

“Back in the early sixties, it was discovered that there was a set of three Benoit paintings in a quaint little museum in the Quarter. No one knew the value, not even the museum curator. A patron discovered them and he and the curator quietly called in an art expert to appraise them. But word got out and everyone wanted to own them. Or take them. The one on my parlor wall was hidden away, but someone stole the other two before the appraisal—and murdered the museum curator. Years later, after hearing the story, an associate of Theo’s bid on his behalf for the remaining Benoit at a private auction and paid a hefty price for it.

“Theo told me this story when he presented the painting to me. But no one has ever found the two missing paintings, so some think that was just a hoax to bring attention to the one I own. But if there are two more paintings out there, they now have an estimated worth of over a million dollars each.”

Gabriel did a low whistle. “So all three together...”

She let out a breath. “Could be worth close to three or four million at the least.” She did the hand-to-the-chin pose. “Theo often talked about finding the other two. He even described them, based on some research he’d found on some old catalog notes from the original museum. And now that I think about it, the smaller rendition found on the balcony fits one of the descriptions he told me about. That’s why it seemed so familiar.”

Gabriel was beginning to see the whole picture. “And if someone has the other two and wants the one here, they could make a pretty penny on resale alone. Or possibly, they don’t have any of the paintings, but think you have all three. Either way, if they get their hands on all three, they could become wealthy in a big way. They’d sell cheap, however, to stay under the radar. The price wouldn’t be in the millions, but they could quite possibly ask for an easy three-hundred K.”

“But I don’t have the other two.”

Gabriel put his hands on her arms. “No, but they might be after the one you do have in order to own the whole set. And they might be trying to scare you away long enough to get in here and take it.”

“Or kill me and do whatever they want with all the art I’ve collected for the fundraiser.”

“How many pieces are planned for the upcoming reception and silent auction?”

She tilted her head. “The Benoit—that’s the main attraction, but of course, it’s for display only. Two sculpture pieces worth several thousand dollars and one of Esther’s that has been rising in value since her notoriety with the Levi-Lafitte Diamond and two more smaller paintings—a Van Gogh sketch and one of a Tahitian landscape, both valued at a quarter of a million.”

“Where are they stored?”

She gave him a thoughtful look, as if she was sizing him up. “In a Mardi Gras Krewe warehouse over in Algiers. But no one except my immediate staff knows that. They will be transported to the auction venue on the day of the event.”

“Which is?”

“Two weeks from now.”

“And you obviously have an alarm system to protect these masterpieces?”

“Of course. We have one at the warehouse and one here. It’s very discreet, but we had that installed when we moved in, after Theo gave me the Benoit. He also brought over some of his own treasured pieces. Between that and the guards, and now the police, I should think the Benoit is safe here until we get ready to move it. The sensor will go off if anyone dares touch the painting.”

“Nothing is ever really safe, Princess. Not when it involves money.”

“Not even me?”

“Especially not even you. You might be more valuable than you realize.” Dead or alive, he thought to himself.

She tilted her head again. “I’m only as valuable as the next public appearance or fundraiser. And now apparently because of my penchant for fine art.”

He stared down at her, amazed at how calm she seemed. “I think you should call off the fundraiser gala.”

“No,” she said. “I won’t allow whoever this is to scare me away. I’ll tell Malcolm to put extra security at the warehouse and here. Making money on art is one thing, but leaving this city in need is not on my agenda.”

“Even if your life is threatened?”

“I have security, and if this is the case, they will be alert and ready. Malcolm will bring in more people at the actual event, of course.”

Gabriel didn’t want to add to her burden, but he had to ask. “And what if someone close to you is in on this? Most art crimes occur because of an inside informant, someone who helps the thieves, makes things easy for them.”

She shook her head, but Gabriel caught a hint of apprehension in her eyes. “The Benoit is still here, and if anyone touches it, alarms will go off everywhere. I’m safe for now. I trust my entire team.”

“But that man last night made it all the way to an upstairs balcony. And no one heard or saw him until he’d almost entered the house.”

“Deidre is a light sleeper, thankfully.”

“What woke her?”

“She said she heard a noise out on the balcony. I’m sure the authorities have grilled her thoroughly. The poor girl was scared and confused, but she can’t go back to bed until they clear out of her room.”

“And you can’t be safe here. You need to think about that.”

Her eyes took on that princess mode. “As I told you, the Benoit will be protected and so will I. I won’t run from these people. I intend to see this through.”

Gabriel wondered about that and the staunch determination in her eyes. He turned to see what Deidre was doing, but the woman, usually so bustling and hyper he could hear her coming a mile away, had slipped unnoticed out of the kitchen. “You need to be completely sure about that, Princess.”

* * *

An hour later, Lara stood staring up at the Benoit, her thoughts a jumble of confusion that made her appreciate the dream aspects of the painting. Or rather, the lost dream that seemed to hang like a veiled curtain over the smiling, dancing people in the center.

When would her life ever settle down to a routine that might bring her a bit of contentment and harmony? After the gala, she reminded herself, her nerves jingling their own warning. The Benoit was the draw. Or at least she was counting on that.

Her cell rang. “Hello?”

A deep breathing. Well, that was original.

“Hello?” she repeated.

The connection went cold. And so did her heart. Him again? Did he think he’d win her over by breathing into the phone?

“Another wrong number?”

She whirled to find Gabriel standing just inside the door.

“You startled me. I thought you were with Malcolm.”

“We finished our discussion and I was allowed to get a couple of shots of the print you found. I didn’t mean to startle you.” He advanced into the room and brought the scents of spice and fresh soap with him. “If you’re receiving hang-up calls, you need to let Malcolm and the police know.”

She nodded, put her phone away, pushed her fears aside. “And you are here to watch and observe, not give me security advice.”

“I’m sorry again.” He glanced up at the painting. “But you’re right, of course.”

Lara shook her head. “Forgive me. I’m a little rattled. But I have to take this seriously since my entire staff could be in danger. I’d rather lose this painting than have something terrible happen to the people I love.”

“But you’re not willing to cancel this whole event?”

“I can’t at this late date. Too many variables.” And she didn’t know him well enough to explain those variables.

He came to stand beside her, and Lara immediately felt the warmth descending over her like a cloak of protection. “And the people who love you don’t want anything bad to happen to their princess.”

She turned, surprised at the generosity in that statement. “I thought you were cynical about such things.”

His smile was almost sad. “You guessed that about me already?”

“I read up on you. You’ve seen the worst the world has to offer, so I can certainly understand being cynical.”

He glanced at the painting, then back to her. “Ah, but I’ve also seen the best the world has to offer. So in spite of being somewhat cynical, I also have a strong sense of faith.”

“Really?” Lara was touched and surprised by his admission. “I’m relieved to hear that. My faith has guided me through the worst of times, too.”

He turned, his gaze solemn and full of secrets. “You’ll need that in the coming months, too. My gut tells me that these people trying to scare you are just getting started.” Then he leaned close, his hand touching her wrist. “And I’ve come to a decision about that.”

Lara held her breath while she watched the rich liquid brown of his eyes turn deadly serious. “You’re not backing out of your assignment, are you? I didn’t mean to be so rude—”

He got even closer, his mouth so close to her ear she felt her teardrop pearl earring dancing. “Oh, no, Princess, I’ve decided even though this is none of my business I’m staying close by your side until we find out who’s doing this.”

Lara swallowed her fear and shock. “You don’t need to—I mean, that’s not necessary. I have protection.”

“I’m not a security expert, but I’m good at observing people and I know human nature. I’ll be watching for anyone out of the ordinary.”

She glanced over at him then. “Are you implying that you truly believe what you stated earlier? That someone on my security detail or within my household could be involved in this?”

He whirled her around to face him. “I’m not implying, Lara. I’m pretty sure that Deidre planted both of those packages. Your assistant is trying to terrorize you. And me, being the curious-reporter type, well, I intend to catch her in the act next time she makes a move. That is, if I can find her.”

Lara wanted to slap him, but the dead-serious look in his dark eyes told her this was no joke. “You only came into my house last night and now you insult me by even suggesting such a thing as Deidre being involved?”

His next words sent a chill through Lara’s heart. “I just checked her room. Now that the police have left and your detail people are back at their duties, I wanted to talk to her alone.”

“And?”

“She’s not there and neither is her laptop or her tote bag. I checked her closet, too. It’s empty. Deidre has apparently left Kincade House.”

FOUR

Lara couldn’t believe this man’s audacity. She’d only met him last night and already he was bossing everyone around. Normally, she liked forceful personalities. But today had not been normal. “You snooped in Deidre’s room? Do you want me to end this assignment for you before we even begin?”

Gabriel checked the room, his expression full of concern and regret. “Look, Princess, I get these hunches about things.”

“So you just go on a hunch and assume that my assistant is involved in an attempted art theft?”

He held his hands on his hips. “I go on what I see, on things I can put together and figure out.” Tapping his temple with a finger, he added, “It’s called logic.”

Lara didn’t want to listen to him and the rebel in her fought against his logic. He’d waltzed in here like Mr. America, all gung ho and alpha male, and now he was acting like the CIA? Never mind that his words and his sincere determination made shivers of apprehension move down her scalp. Never mind that his presence here made everything different and difficult. What had she been thinking, allowing him to shadow her at a time when she needed a lot of privacy?

“You are in no position to assume that authority, Mr. Murdock. Do I need to call Malcolm in here to escort you out?”

“Is there a problem, Your Highness?”

They both whirled at the sound of Deidre’s voice.

Lara was as surprised as Gabriel. “Deidre, we were concerned about you. Where on earth did you go?”

She sent an accusing glare at Gabriel, then stepped toward her frazzled assistant. But when she came around the sofa, she saw Deidre’s suitcase near her sandaled feet.

Gabriel was right behind her. This time he gave her a telling stare. Obviously, he thought he was right.

But she knew he was wrong.

“Deidre, what’s going on?” Lara asked, wondering if she’d finally given in to that nervous breakdown the tabloids always claimed she was about to have.

Deidre started crying. “I wanted to leave, ma’am. I wanted to get out of this city.”

“And why would you want to do that?” Lara asked, another shiver going down her spine.

“I’ve made a mess of things,” Deidre replied. “I was almost to the corner, but Malcolm came and got me and forced me to return. He said even if you wanted me to leave, I couldn’t now. I’d compromise the...investigation.”

“The investigation?” Lara gave Gabriel a blaming glance, then went to Deidre. “Sit down and tell me what you mean.”

“Mr. Malcolm said there was a criminal investigation, since you’ve received two odd packages. He said it’s not safe to leave now. He told me if I left, I’d look guilty.”

“He’s correct,” Gabriel said, his eyes full of apology. “Deidre, it’s none of my business, but if you know something that can help you or the princess, you need to tell us now.”

“I don’t,” Deidre replied, pushing her dark glasses up on her nose, her gaze darting from Lara back to him. “I only know that I saw a man on the upstairs balcony last night. I didn’t even see the package.”

“That’s true,” Lara said, deciding she’d deal with Gabriel Murdock later. “I’m the one who alerted Malcolm and his team about the package.”

Deidre stopped sobbing and stilled, shock coloring her face. “You don’t think that I—”

“Of course not,” Lara replied, taking Deidre by the hand. She lifted her gaze toward Gabriel, daring him to voice what she knew he must be thinking. “But...Deidre, Mr. Murdock does have a point. Since no one witnessed the first delivery and Herbert is not answering his phone to verify what you told us last night and now you claim you saw a man—”

“I did see a man,” Deidre said, getting up to whirl around. “I don’t know anything else. I brought you the first package, but I found it. I didn’t plant it, if that’s what you’re implying. That’s the truth. I’d never do anything to harm you.”

Gabriel lifted his chin toward Lara. “May I say something else?”

Lara wanted to tell him no. She wanted to tell him to leave her house. But that little niggle of reality kept her from sending Gabriel away. That and the concern in his dark eyes.

“What?”

He gave her a nod of thanks. “Deidre, I’m the one who suspected you. Princess Lara was concerned for you, but I suggested that you might be involved. I apologize. It was very brave of you to come back and face her.”

“She’s brave because she has nothing to hide, right, Deidre?” Lara was determined to make him see that he was wrong. If she couldn’t trust Deidre, whom could she trust?

“I’m telling the truth,” Deidre replied. “Truly, ma’am, I wouldn’t do anything to hurt you.”

“We believe you, don’t we, Gabriel?”

He stared at her a long minute before nodding. “I don’t want to get involved in this, but I’m here and it’s hard to avoid. It’s the nature of being an investigative photojournalist. Too curious for my own good.”

Deidre’s dark gaze probed him. Then she turned to Lara. “May I please go to my room now? I’ll unpack and we can finish what’s left of today’s schedule.”

Lara got up and hugged Deidre. “You go, but don’t worry about today’s schedule. Take a long nap. I’ll make sure Malcolm posts a guard by your door.”

Deidre nodded and grabbed her small suitcase. Lara waited until she heard the girl’s footsteps on the stairs. She turned to Gabriel, but Malcolm popped in the door.

“Ma’am, I hope the girl explained her absence and her return.”

Lara nodded. “She did, Malcolm. Thank you for going after her.”

He nodded, then left as silently as he’d come. Odd that Malcolm hadn’t even questioned her acceptance of Deidre’s return. Usually, the man was full of questions. But then, this whole affair had taken on a strangeness that didn’t set well with Lara. Not a good way to start out her time here in New Orleans.

Lara took a deep, settling breath. “And as for you, Gabriel Murdock—”

Gabriel moved toward her like a panther stalking a dove. “You can’t be serious. Do you actually believe her?”

“Yes, I certainly do. She’s young and afraid and confused. I believe she got scared out of her wits and wanted to go home to her family in Europe. Sometimes, we all just want to go home.”

He stared down at her and nodded, his expression changing to something less forceful. “Am I still on this assignment, Princess?”

She thought about that long and hard, and then she nodded. “Of course. We’re all a little fatigued and on edge. I appreciate you being so diligent, but you need to remember you are not here to do any investigative journalism. You’re only here to do an in-depth study on me. A factual, enlightening study to showcase my work here in New Orleans. Do I make myself clear?”

He leaned close, the scent of something spicy and masculine surrounding him. “Very clear, Princess. I’ll report what I see and I’ll write what I know to be true. But you have to know—this threat is not over.” He hesitated, then rushed ahead. “And you also have to know that I won’t stand by and watch if I think something is about to happen to you.”

She grabbed at her pearls and inclined her head, hoping to distract herself from the way this man seemed to have a natural need to protect her. Maybe that was just the way he was wired, but his actions were somewhat confusing. “We’re all aware now. We’ll watch and wait, and I’m sure between Malcolm and the police, this will soon end.”

He moved toward his equipment bags. “Then let’s get started with your day.”

Lara cleared her mind and tried to focus on the many tasks at hand. But she couldn’t get past Gabriel’s suggestion that Deidre wasn’t being honest.

Especially when she’d noticed how strange her assistant had been acting lately. Was Deidre scared because of all the unsettling things happening around here? Or did the other woman actually know who was behind this?

* * *

Gabriel took another shot, from a different angle. The afternoon sun glistened off of Lake Pontchartrain and cast a golden shimmer around the woman in the stark white sundress.

Lara Kincade was in PR mode. This press conference would announce her intentions of building more Kincade houses in one of the disaster-stricken wards of New Orleans. With the lake behind her and most of the Louisiana press before her, Lara commanded the mike space with a regal elegance.

He wanted to capture that elegance.

So he snapped away with two different cameras and several lenses. He caught her smiling softly. He captured her with a hand lifted in the air, her diamond solitaire a signal that while she might be alone, she still held her marriage as sacred.

“And so, I’m happy to announce that I have a team of contractors and carpenters on standby to finish the work my husband started. I’m very excited and blessed to be able to be a part of this important recovery phase for the city of New Orleans.”

After a round of applause, Deidre—wide-awake and back in control—stepped to the mike. “And now Her Royal Highness will be happy to take your questions.”

Everyone started talking at once. Out of habit, Gabriel turned to snap a few pictures of the crowd. It never hurt to record anything that might become history. It never hurt to get faces that might become assets or foes later, either.

Or in this case, help him to protect the princess even more—the princess who didn’t want to be protected. The woman was a walking target, but she had a job to do. He had to admire her fortitude. But he was also grateful for Malcolm and his expert security team. And having pictures of the crowd could serve as backup later. If anything else happened.

Gabriel had a feeling something else would happen. And soon. With art worth millions hanging around, and a highly visible princess taking up residence in the city, New Orleans was abuzz with intent. Some of it good and some of it bad.

He watched Deidre, too. The girl who’d been so rattled this morning now seemed as polished and cultured as a fresh pearl. Not the same girl who’d cried and played coy earlier. She’d appeared after lunch and just in time for the press conference that Lara had refused to cancel. What was the story with that one, anyway? He could always do a background check on her later, on his own time.

But right now he had to keep at the subject at hand.

He snapped away, his methods unobtrusive, and managed to get some candid shots of both the princess and Deidre.

“How long do you plan to be in New Orleans, Princess Lara?”

“As long as it takes.”

“Are you staying in the Garden District?”

“I’m here and there.”

“Why do you think it’s so important to rebuild houses here?”

“Why wouldn’t it be important? We can’t have a fabulous city without people to contribute. And we can’t bring people back unless they have houses in which to live.”

“What about the Benoit?”

That caught Gabriel’s attention. He whirled to see who’d asked that question. Snapping away, he caught the man’s image in his pictures. Then he turned back to the princess. And saw her skin had gone pale.

“What about the Benoit?”

“We hear you’re having a gala in the Quarter, a private affair with a very high ticket price. Is that because you want to show off the Benoit?”

“I hope to have a nice evening with invited guests. It’s not about showing off. We picked that venue because it allows us to spill out into Jackson Square and it has a nice garden out back. But this event is about raising more money to help our cause.”

The man nodded but looked skeptical and a bit angry.

Bingo. Gabriel’s gut churned and he stopped taking pictures so he could study the reporter who’d asked that question. The man looked to be in his mid-thirties, with dark, straight hair and stark, almost black eyes. Was he really a reporter? Or a plant? Part of a team?

Gabriel would have to get his editor to access face-recognition technology and run a search online to find out about the man’s credentials. And he could certainly enlarge the picture he’d snapped to see what the man’s press badge said.

“Thank you all for your time,” Lara said, clearly tired and a bit unnerved by the mention of the Benoit. “I so appreciate all of you coming today. But we have a very busy schedule.”

Only Reporter Man wasn’t finished. “What about the trouble at your Garden District home this morning?”

Lara looked shocked, but she lifted that noble chin and stared the man down. “I have no further comments.”

Deidre stepped up to give instructions on where and when the construction would start. They’d need the press there to make sure they got even more coverage. But they would not be answering any more questions right now. Before she left the stage, the girl glared at the intrusive reporter.

Lara stepped down from the podium and met Gabriel behind the portable stage. “Don’t even say it,” she whispered as she moved by him.

He hurried to catch up with her. “Say what?”

“You know exactly what.” She waited for the driver to open the door of the sleek black SUV. “That man asked about the Benoit. And he knows something is going on, obviously.”

“Yes.” Gabriel slid in beside her while Deidre got up front with the driver. “So?”

Lara gave him a quizzical glance. “I guess you wouldn’t know.”

“Know what?” Gabriel waited, wondering what else he didn’t know.

“I haven’t mentioned the Benoit to anyone. The press, I mean. The gala reception is supposed to be a private event and we haven’t published it a lot. Only the people on the guest list know that the Benoit will be on display during the party.”

Gabriel sat up. “Hmm. Now that does make things interesting. So how did that reporter know about the painting being back at Kincade House?”

“I have no idea,” she replied, her voice low. “But this does give me pause.”

“Good. You need to pause and think about the danger of this situation.”

“I’ve thought about that a lot, I can assure you. If I stayed hidden from danger, I’d never leave my bedroom.”

Gabriel could understand her need to keep working, to keep moving. He’d been on his own so long, he’d learned to never be afraid of anything, but right now he had a deep dread inside his heart. “So you’ll allow that something odd is going on. Someone is leaking information, Princess.”

He glanced up front. The driver headed across town and exited off one of the main thoroughfares. Deidre had her nose buried in her smartphone, her thumbs tapping, tapping some sort of message.

Lara’s gaze followed his. “Would you like to stay for dinner again tonight, Mr. Murdock?”

Gabriel couldn’t miss an opportunity to take more pictures and to keep a close eye on the princess. This mystery was growing by the minute. In spite of his better judgment, he had to find out what was going on. He had a story here. A real story. He’d walked away before and that had put him here. It was like déjà vu all over again.

He shot a glance toward the front. “I’d love that.”

“Good.” She looked up again. “I think we have a lot to discuss.”

He nodded, and wondered if the princess had finally seen the light and come to her senses. If so, maybe he could sit back and relax a little bit.

But in the next second, that notion changed. A boom hit the dusk and the SUV started spinning out of control.

“Tire just blew out,” the driver shouted. Deidre screamed and dropped her phone.

Gabriel grabbed Lara, his eyes locked with hers. “Hold on,” he said, pushing her down against the seat.

The impact of the crash set them both up and back down.

He was still holding Lara when the vehicle finally stopped spinning.

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