Free Ransom for a Prince by Lisa Childs Page A

Jessica Peters your real name?”
    “Wh-why would you ask me that?”
    “Because my brother says you’re lying about your name, that you’re hiding your real identity.”
    God, the man really was a human lie detector.
    “I will deny it if you tell him this, but my brother is rarely wrong.”
    She couldn’t help but smile at his admission of sibling rivalry. But then a pang of loss clutched at her heart. She’d had a brother, too, and had been as close as the royal twins, if not closer. Because their single mom hadn’t been the most reliable guardian, Sam had been as much parent as brother to her. Hell, Sam had been everything to her. And when he’d died, she’d lost everything, even her common sense.
    But now she had her daughter whom she’d named after her brother. She couldn’t lose Samantha, too, and that could happen if anyone discovered her real identity. She drew in a shaky breath and asked, “So you think I’m lying about my name, too?”
    “I think you changed your name.” He caught a lock of her hair between his fingers. “I think you tried to change how you look.”
    His brother wasn’t the only observant Cavanaugh. She held her lips closed, unwilling to say any more. She’d agreed to tell him what she’d witnessed but nothing else.
    “I thought you had dyed your hair to hide from the people seeking the witness,” he continued. “But I have a feeling you’ve been hiding from someone else and for much longer than two weeks.”
    She shivered at his insightfulness—and at the horrible memories that rushed over her.
    “Who are you hiding from, Jessica, or whatever your real name is?”
    “I’m Jessica,” she said, then relented. “Now.” She didn’t want to hear her old name ever again. She didn’t want to go back to that old life, not even in memories. But as she’d already learned, the prince was relentless when he wanted to know something. No doubt he would keep at her until she told him what he wanted to know—what she’d never wanted to talk about again.
    “Who are you hiding from?”
    “My husband.”

    S EBASTIAN FELT AS THOUGH he had struck the pavement again. She was married. When he’d seen the car seat, he’d realized she was a mother and had even considered that she might be a wife.
    But having confirmation…
    “Why are you hiding from your husband?” he had to know.
    “Because he told me that if I ever left him, he would track me down and kill me.” She said it matter-of-factly—fatalistically—as if she had every reason to believe her husband would follow through on the threat he had made.
    “He was abusive.” That explained the reason she’d flinched whenever Sebastian had reached out to touch her.
    “Yes.” Color rushed to her face. “But I—I didn’t know that about him…until after we were married. And then it was too late.”
    “Had you tried to leave him before?”
    “Yes,” she said, “when he was in prison.”
    He wanted to ask her what the man had done that had sent him away. But her story was difficult for her to share; he didn’t want to make it any more traumatic for her.
    “He was serving seven years on an assault charge,” she offered, surprising him.
    When he gasped, she added, “Not me. He’d lost his temper with someone who worked with him—put the man in a coma. Of course he told me it was self-defense, that the man had assaulted him first.”
    “You believed him?”
    “No, but no one calls Evgeny Surinka a liar. I was relieved when he went to prison. But he had people watching me,” she continued, “making sure I didn’t leave.”
    “You had no one to help you escape him?” Had she been all alone?
    “My brother died before I married Evgeny. He was all I had.”
    Until now. Now she had him—if she would accept his offer of protection. “So you stayed?”
    “I tried to leave,” she said. “I filed for divorce while he was in prison.”
    “What happened?”
    A soft cry escaped her lips. “He got