Free Heart's Demand by Cheryl Holt

at all about a little misbehavior.”
    He grinned and clasped her wrist. “Follow me, Miss Pippa. There’s another spot that is exactly what we require.”
    *   *   *   *
    “May I be frank, Miss Webster?”
    “Yes, please.”
    André Valois stared across his desk at the young woman who’d sought his help. They were in his private office, and though Bryce Blair had tried to accompany her for the discussion, André had chased him away. He and Miss Webster were alone.
    “I know who you really are,” he said.
    “What do you mean?”
    “I’m honored that you’ve graced my home, Your Highness.”
    Princess Morovsky gasped. “You must have me confused with someone else.”
    “Your father was a friend, so we needn’t play games. Tell me what you need, and to the best of my ability, I shall provide it.”
    She studied him for an eternity, and André held himself very still, watching her, allowing her to decide how they would proceed. Through lengthy experience, he’d learned that most of what he hoped to discover would be revealed after an awkward silence. He had unlimited patience and expressive, coercive features that always succeeded in wearing people down.
    Ultimately she asked, “How were you acquainted with my father?”
    “I toured extensively before the Great Terror wrenched my beloved France apart. I stopped in Parthenia.”
    “Have we met?” she inquired.
    “No.”
    “Then how can you be so sure of who I am? I’ve been incredibly discreet.”
    “Everyone has secrets,” he told her with a sly smile. “I never divulge mine.”
    He’d lived in Cairo for decades, and local authorities were happy to let him deal with the troubles of visiting Europeans, so he’d personally dispatched her attacker. Just prior to slitting the man’s throat, he’d obtained the confession that explained the assault. The bandit hadn’t been a robber. A large reward had been posted for her capture, and he’d been hired to kidnap her.
    After André had received that startling news, it had been easy to piece together the rest of the story.
    Katarina Webster ? For a woman who thought she was being furtive, she wasn’t very good at it. André had once danced with her American mother at a ball in Parthenia, and her mother’s maiden name had been Webster.
    “If you know who I am,” she said, “then you know I’ve lost my royal position.”
    “I’m aware of your difficulties.”
    “I’m no longer a princess so there’s no need to exhibit any deference.”
    “I don’t feel that way. Your father was a king. It doesn’t matter what your cousin, Kristof, has decreed. You’re still your father’s daughter.”
    “Thank you. You’re the first person who’s spoken kindly to me about it since I was stripped of my title.”
    “The citizens of Parthenia are idiots.”
    She was too polite to agree. Instead she said, “You won’t disclose my identity to anyone in Cairo, will you?”
    “Not if you don’t wish it.”
    “I don’t wish it.”
    “Then Miss Webster it is. What assistance do you seek?”
    “My mother’s brother, Cedric Webster, is digging in the pyramids. I shall travel to his camp and stay with him for a bit.”
    “I’ve met Monsieur Webster.”
    “Are you familiar with his whereabouts?”
    “Yes. If you hire a boat and sail on the river, it’s a three-day journey from here.”
    “I’m relieved that it’s nearby.”
    Her anxiety was visible, her nerves at a raw edge. She was brave to have come so far, to have plotted and schemed to protect her brother, and she’d accomplished it with no support from those who should have aided her.
    There had been ghastly rumors about the coup in Parthenia. Kristof was an incompetent malingerer with visions of grandeur about his intellect and abilities. If there was any justice in the world—and typically there wasn’t—the people of Parthenia would get sick of him quickly enough.
    If André had been younger and more reckless, he might have offered