The Outlaw Prince's Captive - Holly Rayner Page 0,56

arms. “Are you hurt?”

“I’m good,” she said.

“Quite an admirable capture, really,” Voles said, pulling Fabron to his feet. “Where’s Stevens, by the way?”

“Oh.” Francesca bit her lip, wondering if she was about to get into trouble. “He’s probably still in the club. I had to leave him behind.”

“Why?” Voles asked.

“Because…well, he tripped, sir.”

Voles closed his eyes. “All right. That was good thinking, Bellucci, and very brave. You’ll be commended for it.”

A commendation! That was more than she would have dared to hope for.

“Thank you, sir.”

Voles led Fabron back over to the car. Francesca watched them go, watched Voles put Fabron into the backseat.

“What happens now?” Viggo asked.

“He’ll be arrested,” Francesca said. “Formally, I mean. Booked and put in jail. I’m sure someone like him has a lawyer to call, but since you have his confession on tape, it’s going to be a pretty airtight case.” She paused. “That was brilliant, by the way. Getting him to confess like that, without threatening him or forcing it out of him. If you’d done that, the confession would have been worthless in court.”

“I wasn’t even thinking about that,” Viggo said. “I was only thinking about whether or not we could help him. I really have always thought of him as a friend, if not a close one. I did want to help him if I could.”

“That was big of you. Especially considering that he was willing to let you go down for his crime.”

“Only because he thought I could get immunity by staying in Konäs,” Viggo said.

But Francesca shook her head. “He was willing to let you take the heat no matter what,” she said. “He didn’t confess when he saw that you had come back to town, did he? He said himself that he’d seen you in that tabloid article. If he’d meant to come forward, he should have done it then.”

Viggo sighed. “You’re right. It’s hard to admit it, but…you’re right. He should have come forward then, and he didn’t. I suppose he never meant to after all.”

“You don’t have to worry now,” Francesca said. “It’s over. The only question left is what punishment he’ll get. The investigation into you will stop now.”

“Only because of you,” Viggo said. “Only because you refused to let it go.”

“I couldn’t let you suffer the way you were,” she said. “Not for a crime you didn’t commit.”

He took her in his arms and pulled her close.

But then he hesitated. “Is this all right?” he asked, his face inches from hers. “Your boss might be watching us right now.”

“It’s a bit too late if he minds,” Francesca said. “There’s not much professional about my conduct at the moment.”

“That’s true,” Viggo murmured.

“Besides,” she said, “you’re no longer a suspect in an active investigation. There’s no conflict of interest with me seducing you now.”

“Seducing me? Is that what you’re doing.”

“I don’t know. I don’t know what you want to call it. Is ‘hooking up’ a term they use where you’re from?”

“Is that all we’re doing?” he asked. “Just ‘hooking up’?”

She was breathing too fast. “What do you mean?” she asked, looking up at him.

“I thought it was obvious how I feel about you,” he said.

And he bent to kiss her, the passion in his embrace leaving her absolutely no room for doubt.

Chapter 22

Two Months Later

“Are you sure you know what you’re doing?” Francesca asked, eyeing the chicken anxiously.

Viggo laughed. “You know I’m a better cook than you are. Do you want to be the one to cook supper for your family?”

“Ha,” Francesca said, giving a chuckle. “They’ve been through that more than enough times. It will be good for them to have a real meal for once. But you’ve never made Italian before, have you?”

“I haven’t,” Viggo said. “But the recipe is simple, and the flavors aren’t complicated. And besides, I want to make Italian for your family. They’re Italian, after all, and I want them to like me.”

“You don’t have to cook for them to make that happen,” Francesca said. “I’m sure they’re going to like you. But what can I do to help?”

“You can mix the salad.”

“Really?” Francesca said. “That’s all you’re going to trust me with? Tossing a salad?”

“Okay,” Viggo said. “You can also brush the garlic butter onto the baguettes.”

Francesca laughed. “It’s a good thing I’m here,” she said. “You wouldn’t be able to do a thing without me, would you?”

Viggo turned away from the chicken that he had been carefully seasoning and caught her in his arms. He backed her up against the