An Agent for Danielle

An Agent for Danielle

The Pinkerton Matchmaker Series

Book 55

Parker J. Cole

Copyright Information

Copyright © 2020 Parker J. Cole

Cover Art by Black Widow Books

All rights reserved.

First Edition: January 2020

This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The author holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited.

This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each reader. Thank you for respecting the hard work of the authors.

Contents

Copyright Information

FOREWORD

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

EPILOGUE

The Pinkerton Matchmaker Readers Group

About the Author

Join Parker’s Bodacious Readers

Works by Parker J. Cole

FOREWORD

Please note the events I have included in the story is a classic understanding of succession regarding the Kingdom of Dahomey within the context of An Agent for Danielle, but it’s one hundred percent fictional. I’ve used the names of the past kings of Dahomey but that’s about it.

What is true will be shown in the author’s note at the end of the book. Happy reading!

CHAPTER ONE

Denver, Colorado

July 1872

The moment Danielle Bradford laid eyes on the Pinkerton Agency of Denver, Colorado, she wanted to tear the building apart with her bare hands.

Each brick, each windowpane, each slat of wood assaulted her senses. Its existence was an insufferable affront. She longed to obliterate the foundation. Yank the pillars out of the earth as if she were Samson with the Philistines. See it crumble to the ground, reduced to no more than a pile of rubble.

Destroy the building responsible for the destruction of her family.

Then—and only then—would the cauldron of her blood rage cool.

Danielle marched across the street from her vantage point, unaware of the carriages and passersby who may have taken a second or third glance at the woman who walked with the stately, purposeful gait of an angry queen.

Her lip curled. What could be so arresting about this place? What power did it possess that it ensorcelled her sisters to stray from home?

The could fit inside of Arabette Grove twice over and still have room to rattle. Did it have the majesty of her childhood home, a towering edifice of stone and woodwork that had withstood the hands of time? Could this pedestrian street, with its crowded lanes and lumbering buildings contend with the vast, emerald fields of windswept sugarcane beneath its shadow?

Could this building house and treasure within its walls a legendary love like Arabette Grove did for her father and mother?

Danielle halted outside of the door and glanced both ways down the street. No passersby on the sidewalk. Not too many carriages. She’d waited months for this moment. Nothing and no one was going to take it away from her.

She lacked the physical ability to annihilate this place but, by God, she’d make the people who decimated her family pay dearly.

The clear echo of the doorbell rang inside. Despite her resolve, her muscles twitched jerkily.

A woman with a clear face and serene eyes answered her summons. Although Danielle had never met Marianne Chapman before, she knew of this woman. Her sisters had described her more than once in their letters home.

She despised her with as much ferocity as she hated this building.

“Hello there. May I help you?”

How polite Marianne’s voice sounded. For some reason, that made Danielle uneasy.

Somehow, she managed to eke out the words. “Are you Marianne Chapman?”

The woman gave an odd smile. “I was.”

Enigmatic as the statement was, the blood boiled under her skin. Her heart thundered in her chest. “And this is the Pinkerton Agency, where my sisters Arielle—”

Her proud, spoiled eldest sister who once held the men of Arabette Grove and the surrounding plantations in the palm of her hand. She had Papa wrapped around her little finger because of all the daughters, she resembled their mother the most.

“Brielle—”

How she missed the stiff, detached tones of her intelligent sister who once headed the Benjamin Banneker Society, a consortium of intellectuals who met to discuss items of scholarship, academia, and other mental pursuits.

“and Camille—”

Would that she could embrace her sweet, nurturing sister who could make a rainy day go away.

“--have all come?” she finished.

Marianne’s face relaxed. “Yes.” The woman’s eyes roved over her. “You must be Danielle.”

Something inside of her snapped. “And you must be very, very quiet.”

Marianne blinked rapidly. “I beg your pardon?.”

The moment had come. With a swiftness born of practice, Danielle reached into the confines of her vest coat and withdrew the pearl-handled pistol her father had given her for her sixteenth birthday. “It’s similar to the one I had made for your mother,” he’d told her that day. “I knew you, of all my daughters, would appreciate it.”

I do, Papa. I do.

“Listen to me very carefully. If you make a sound or say one word, I will shoot you. Do you understand?”

Moisture from Danielle’s palm slackened her hold around the handle of the pistol. She tightened her grip. No need to get nervous now. She had to do this.

“Do you really want to shoot me, Miss Bradford?” Marianne spoke in a calm tone.

“Yes,” Danielle told her truthfully. No one had to lie when they were the ones holding the gun. “I would like to very much.”

In fact, her finger slid along the arch of the trigger in an almost lover-like way. The feel of the metal soothed as nothing much else could these days.

Marianne’s clear eyes narrowed on the action of her caress along the gun. A pulse began to beat at the bottom of the woman’s throat. Danielle exhaled. Good. The woman finally understood the precariousness of her situation.

“For what reason do you wish to shoot me?”

“I told you to be quiet, didn’t I?” Danielle cocked the gun.

Marianne’s face drained of all color.

Danielle felt a grim satisfaction. It would be so easy. A pull of the trigger and then the woman would be no more. By no means would Danielle’s heart, but at the very least, she’d feel a miniscule lift of sorrow at her demise.

Motioning with the gun, she ordered, “Now, back up slowly. No need to make ourselves a public spectacle. Slowly.”

As the other woman took measured steps backward, Danielle inched forward, glancing around her to make sure she wasn’t observed.

“Well,” Marianne said, “if you going to shoot me, at least tell me why. I think I have the right to know that.”

“Don’t stand there and talk to me about rights, Miss Chapman.”

“It’s Mrs.—”

“You and all the people here in this agency understand exactly what you’ve done.”

“You’ll have to enlighten me.”

Why was the woman so calm? That calmness unsettled Danielle more than hysteria. The way she kept looking at Danielle, her eyes wary, but kind. As if Marianne thought that somehow, this had nothing to do with her.

This has everything to do with you. The Pinkertons ruined my life!

“I want to know where my sisters are. You better tell me where—”

The hairs on her neck stood up in warning an instant before something hard as steel clamped itself around her waist and lifted her off her feet. In a flash, she was heaved against a brick wall, and a long, black-clad arm reached alongside her own. A warm breath and roughened skin brushed against her cheek while hard fingers tangled with her own, forced her arm to her side, and disarmed her of the gun.

It happened so fast, Danielle barely realized she was held captive and made immobile in mere seconds.

She heard the bullets fall to the ground as her captor emptied it.

Coffee-tinged breath wafted across her nose as a low voice whispered, “You allowed yourself to become too sure of your surroundings. A mistake you won’t make ever again, will you?”

The man’s lips brushed against the shell of her ear. She shivered in reaction as a hot needle-like sensation riddled down her spine. Who was this man? More importantly, why did he sound so frighteningly familiar?

Marianne fell weakly against the wall. “God bless you, Lucien.”

The name wasn’t familiar, but why was the voice?

“Unhand me,” she demanded.

“Make me, ma reine,” he dared. “Only then, will I let you go.”

A fine trembling wracked her limbs at his arrogance. “As you wish, monsieur.”

She slammed her head back feeling it connect with his chin. He howled and his hold slackened. She jabbed an elbow into his middle, and then kicked his shins.

He let her go and she fell to the floor in a tangle of limbs and skirts. Instantly she rolled away and leapt to her feet. She whirled around to attack the man when one look at his face turned her volcanic fury into a glacier.

Akaba!

Blood dribbled down from his mouth. He’d retrieved a snowy white handkerchief and was using it to staunch the flow.

Oh, dear God, how could I have struck him! Of all the people in the world.

Dressed in black with a brilliant white shirt, she beheld the man with midnight dark skin smoothed over chiseled, handsome features. Bluish undertones accentuated high cheekbones. Broad dark eyebrows outlined the deep-set black eyes over the wide nostrils. He stood well over six feet with an inbred masculine grace.

Danielle groaned. How, how could she have struck the son of the king of Dahomey?

***

Glorious. Simply glorious.

I must have her, and by Dieu Tout-Puissant, God Almighty, I will.

Lucien Moreau winced as he pressed the handkerchief to his bleeding mouth, but it was worth the pain to see Danielle Bradford again. He’d desired her when she’d been a young girl of fifteen years, one of the four exquisite jewels of her father, Brutus Bradford. Roseline, Brutus’s wife, had known of it and had attempted to deter his interest in her.

“She is a child, Prince Akaba.”

He’d been taken aback by that declaration. “Mrs. Bradford, I do recall from my father’s rather fond memories of you that you were the same age when Brutus kidnapped you.”

She’d at least had the decency to look embarrassed. “Brutus did not kidnap me. It only appeared that way. It was my idea that he should—”

Roseline’s voice had trailed off as if she realized the slippery slope she’d found herself on.

“Brutus waited three years before he took you as his bride, but it’s my understanding that it was purely his strength of will that kept you chaste through no help of your own.”

One rarely got the better of Roseline, but words escaped her that day. Finally, she’d said, “Don’t be so impudent. Really, Prince Akaba, you talk of things that have nothing to do with you.”

“Perhaps,” he’d admitted. “I simply wish to point out that age is a poor indicator of maturity. Some are children at thirty years while others are old souls at twelve.” His voice hardened his next words. “I was sold into diplomacy far younger than either of you. I know.”

“You are to keep away from my daughter.”

Lucien had grinned at her insistence. “Do you think you can order me to not take her? If she were of Dahomey, she’d already be my—”

“Arabette Grove is not Dahomey, Prince Akaba.” Roseline reminded him with blunt fierceness, the claws of motherhood unsheathed and armed for battle.

“True,” he acquiesced. “But you and I both know that one day, she will belong to me.”

“You have some explaining to do, Miss Bradford,” Marianne stated in a firm, gentle voice bringing Lucien back to the present.

Danielle recognized him and she almost went to her knee in respect when he gave a curt shake of his head. He didn’t want anyone to know who he really was. His royal lineage as the son of the king of Dahomey wouldn’t mean much to the people of America.

But France on the other hand…

Her startling gray eyes narrowed but she gave a minute nod of understanding.

“I want to see my sisters.” She refused to cower despite her folly. Dieu Tout-Puissant, the woman should have been his queen from the moment he set eyes on her.

Marianne took a step back, an incredulous look on her face. “Surely you could have asked to see them instead of threatening me with a gun.”

Lucien grinned. “Who knows, Marianne?” He mocked, wincing as the words further added injury to his split lip. “Perhaps Miss Bradford felt as if you would withhold that information.”

“I refuse to apologize for my approach.” Danielle folded her arms and her chin lifted.

Her profile showed the perfect outline of a mulatto cameo. How graceful the lissome column of her neck. The rounded chin with its stubborn pride. Her mouth, that full, luscious brown mouth just made for a man like himself to possess. A man who could appreciate the smooth silk of that burnt umber skin and the ample curves hidden by the voluminous material of European dress.

What he wouldn’t give to see her dressed in the vibrant style of his own people, adorned in cloth made of many colors, draped loosely so that the bright sun could bathe its light upon her skin. Rings of gold should encircle her arms and wrists. Intricate paint dotted along her forehead and face to celebrate her place by his side.

“Lucien?”

He jolted and blinked. Marianne stared with bewilderment in her eyes. “Je suis désolé,” he apologized. “What did you say?”

“What do you think we should do?”

“I want to know where my sisters are,” Danielle said once more. “It’s imperative that I speak with them.”

Lucien frowned. He squinted now, seeing past the loveliness he coveted to mold to himself to the woman beneath. Palpable waves of tension stemmed from her body.

“Why do you need to see your sisters, Danielle?”

She turned those gray eyes to him. “Please. You must bring my sisters back. Our father is dying.”

CHAPTER TWO

Danielle’s legs almost crumbled beneath her as the unvarnished truth of those words struck home. Gritting her teeth, she tightened the muscles along her calves. No weakness. Time enough for tears later.

Marianne’s face wrinkled. “Oh no, Miss Bradford. I’m so sorry.”

The false sympathy grated her ears. “I neither need nor desire your solicitude. I need my sisters.”

Prince Akaba took a step forward. The blood-soiled handkerchief looked incongruous in his dark, blunt-tipped hands. He leveled a stern gaze on her. “Why is he dying, ma reine? Did the fever come back?”

“If the fever had taken captive my father’s life, I wouldn’t be here,” she retorted. Her eyes burned with unshed tears. “I’d be there to care for him. A fever I can fight with my love and bare hands.”

The prince’s face blurred, and she blinked to clear away the moistness. “However, I cannot fight this place. The Pinkertons have stolen my sisters from my father until only I was left.”

“Miss Bradford, the Pinkertons did no such thing. Each of your sisters came here of their own free will.”

“Do you honestly think I believe that nonsense?” Danielle spat with venom. “I don’t know how but they were lured here across the ocean away from all that was good and perfect. What spell does this ramshackle house cast?”

Marianne’s gaze drifted to Prince Akaba’s. “Lucien?” It was more than a question but a plea for intervention.

“Danielle, why is your father dying?”

Her lips tightened as she clipped out, “Why else do you think? From a broken heart.”

Marianne’s eyes softened. “Miss Bradford I—”

“Do not speak to me, Miss Chapman.”

“Mrs.—”

“I don’t want to hear another word from you.” A shrill note filled with hysteria cracked the air like a whip. “How often have my sisters sung your wretched praises. How resourceful you are. How you keep this agency from collapsing onto itself.” Her hands locked in fists by her side. “Every time I saw your name, I wanted to strike you from the page.”

Each letter home had pierced the knife of loneliness deeper into Brutus’s heart. Behind the pleasure of receiving news of his daughters’ well-being lurked the monster of isolation. Danielle had felt the loss of her sisters’ presence as keenly as if someone had torn a limb from her body.

Her father must have felt it much worse.

“All of you bear a marked trait of your mere, ma cherie. A goddess who shared the best parts of herself with all of you in some way. I was never fully without her presence because you all were here, and thus, she was close to me.”

Danielle remembered how her father had paused in his musing and gazed away. “What shall become of me when all of you are gone?”

Marianne’s voice interrupted her musing. “How can you resent me when you’re the one who threatened me with a gun?”

Danielle snarled. “I’d do more than that if I could. I’d—I’d—”

“That is enough, Danielle.”

Prince Akaba’s voice carried an authoritative command. Though he was not her king, he was still a king, or would be one. Roseline had honored his position and she must do the same.

She turned away from the dismayed sight of the woman who helped to procure her sisters from their home.

“Lucien, is there something between you and Miss Bradford I need to know? You seem familiar with her.”

Danielle’s back prickled from the force of Prince Akaba’s gaze trained on her. “Marianne, I’d like to speak with Miss Bradford alone, please.”

“What am I to tell Archie?”

Archibald Gordon, the man responsible for tying her sisters in matrimonial chains, barring the way for them to ever come back to Arabette Grove. If Prince Akaba hadn’t taken her weapon, she probably would have trained it on that man as well.

“Tell him whatever you wish. Whatever he decides, we will abide by.”

“Can I trust that you will not bring any harm to anyone under this roof, Miss Bradford?”

Danielle refused to speak. She acted like Arielle in one of her stubborn days, but she just didn’t care.

Prince Akaba spoke in her stead. “I have the gun, Marianne. Miss Bradford won’t be doing anything with it.”

Her nostrils flared. Don’t make a wager on that, my prince.

When Marianne’s footsteps drifted away to some inner part of the mausoleum, Danielle turned back around.

“Prince Akaba—”

A quick wave of a hand silenced her. “Not here.”

He motioned for her to follow him. She did so and he led her to a drawing room of sorts with a plush velvet settee and odds and ends to relieve the room of its spartan décor.

When the door closed, Prince Akaba’s black eyes bore into hers.

“Address me properly.”

To anyone else, his demand would have presented itself as the epitome of arrogance. But Danielle knew of the political maneuvering of France and the kingdom of Dahomey. France, powerfully equipped with firearms and weapons to fortify an already formidable tribal kingdom like Dahomey against its enemies. Dahomey, bursting with rich and precious metals along with palm oil and other such exports France hungered for.

The kingdom of Dahomey had held off the encroaching power of France for years. An uneasy truce was further complicated by Dahomey’s dark practices of slavery.

Regardless, her mother demanded all her daughters show proper respect to the crown of a country. Danielle started to fall to her knees and bow as any citizen of Dahomey when Prince Akaba stopped her by placing his hand on her shoulder.

“What is it, my prince?”

“You will address me as your husband, Danielle.”

For a moment, Danielle stood rooted to the spot, her body briefly unable to do anything more than stare at the man who made such an extraordinary statement. When the ability to speak returned, she gasped, “You must be mad to think I will ever address you as such.”

His eyes narrowed. “Remember who I am.”

Did all those of royal blood inherit the propensity to expect that every wish they demanded be granted?

She spluttered. “I remember all too well, my prince. Mother told me of your wish to marry me seven years ago.”

“I’m not surprised. Roseline would have warned you against my advances, I’m sure.”

More like anointed her body with holy oil. Roseline’s ardent desire to keep the prince away from Danielle had bordered almost on paranoia. She recalled a conversation she had with her mother about the prince a few months before she passed away.

“Why is it that you don’t wish for me to marry the prince?” Danielle asked.

“Because the prince has no idea what he wants. He is like a boy with a new toy. At first, his fascination is all-encompassing. Once the newness wears away, he discards it and searches for the next amusement. He has an insatiable appetite, Danielle. In more ways than one.” Her mother scowled, a rare expression because she was always so content. “I’ll be sent to the dredges of hell before I allow him to treat my daughter in such a fashion.”

“She did, so you can understand that I’ve no desire to address you as husband.” She cocked her head to the side. “You’ll receive due deference as a man fit for your station, my prince, but as for the other—” Her shoulders lifted in an insolent shrug. “You’ll have to find your bride elsewhere.”

Danielle waited for the prince to deny her words, but he said nothing to that effect. Instead he asked, “Why is it that you believe your father is dying of a broken heart?”

Just like that, the prince’s ridiculous wish was vanquished to the recesses of her mind while the reason for her sojourn to the Pinkerton office of Denver Colorado came hurtling to the surface once more.

“He is listless as he never was, my prince,” Danielle watched the weak flames of the fire in the small hearth. “He stays locked away in his study day after day, sometimes all week without ever coming out. When he does, my father looks lost, as if the very reasons for his being had been stripped away from him.”

“Are you certain he isn’t sick, Danielle?”

“A broken heart is a sickness, my prince. No one can love as fervently as my father loves. When the source of one’s love has been ripped away, what can you expect? He loved my mother with every fiber of his being.” Her voice choked suddenly, as the emotion overtook her.

“Danielle?”

She swallowed the lump in her throat. “We, her daughters, kept him from sinking into despair. And now, Arielle, Brielle, and Camille have all left within this past year and have stranded my father on an island.”

Danielle whirled around in a flurry of skirts. “For what, my prince? What does the Pinkerton agency have that my father does not?”

***

“Ma reine, don’t you think you may be taking your contempt too far?” Lucien tsked. “Surely the answer isn’t to travel halfway across the world and kill anyone?”

“Mock me all you wish to, Prince Akaba. Your family are safely ensconced in Dahomey while mine has been—”

Lucien pursed his lips and then winced at the resultant pain. Although the throbbing had gone down, his mouth was still sensitive from Danielle’s attack. Despite that, his amusement dissipated like grains of sand into the ocean. Little did Danielle know the true state of his family.

“Why did they have to come here?” she moaned.

“One cannot fight against the destiny set before them,” he answered. He wondered if the observation was for her benefit or for his.”

“We make our own destiny, Prince Akaba.”

“Do we?” Lucien doubted that. Wasn’t his life the perfect illustration of a pre-destined path? When his father passed away, the throne of Dahomey would fall to him. A throne he had no wish to occupy.

“Of course, Prince Akaba.”

He shook the cobwebs from his mind. “Then your destiny is by my side as my queen.”

“My prince, we have already discussed this. I will not be your queen.”

You already are, Lucien thought as his eyes roved over her once more.

“Must you look at me like that?”

“How am I looking at you?”

An embarrassed expression came onto her face and she turned away. “Never mind.”

He grinned at her discomfort. “Eventually, you will bow to the inevitable.”

She made a sound of mockery. “I cannot believe you have waited seven years in order to gain me as your bride. The world does not lack plenty of women who’d covet the honor of fulfilling the position.”

“You underestimate your beauty,” Lucien told her. “Your mother had the kind of beauty capable of luring a thousand men to their deaths. You are her daughter. Don’t you think such loveliness would be passed on to you?”

“No, I don’t,” Danielle returned bluntly.

“Now you’re being modest, ma reine. Incredibly so.”

“I never said I lacked admirers, Prince Akaba. I am not unaware that I hold a certain portion of my mother’s attraction that some men may be tempted by. However, it’s my sister, Arielle, who bears the most resemblance to our mother.”

“Your eldest sister is exquisite,” Lucien agreed. “All the Bradford women are. But none of them are you.”

Her eyes hardened like diamonds. “What flattery are you attempting to weave, my prince? For what purpose?”

Lucien shrugged. “Flattery implies a hidden agenda. My desire to have you as my bride is not hidden. You’ve been aware of it for years even if you had forgotten.”

“You speak solely of desire, Prince Akaba, but nothing of love.”

“Love disparate from familial relationships is non-existent, ma reine,” Lucien told her with certainty. “Desire, base though it may be, is honest. Of all the women in the world I have met, you are the one I’ve craved the most.”

“That is because you’ve never had me. And you never will.”

Lucien groaned deep in the back of his throat. “Nothing whets a man’s appetite more than a challenge.”

“And once met,” Danielle retorted as her gray eyes narrowed and hardened like stone, “he bores easily. I refuse to be an object of your boredom just as I dislike being the source of your fleeting desire.”

“I’ve no time for this,” she dismissed with a wave of her hand. “I need to see my sisters. They must return home.”

At her words, Lucien’s thoughts of conquest receded, usurped by sorrow which swelled in his breast. Hangbe, his mind whispered in mental agony.

He blew out a harsh breath as he spoke. “I can tell you this: your father is not dying from a broken heart.”

“What do you know of such things, Prince Akaba?”

Lucien could have spent a day and a half enlightening her about the effects of a broken heart. It could maim you for the rest of your life. But it could never kill you. He knew that firsthand.

“I know more than you think,” he decided to tell her without going any further than that.

The door burst open, startling them. Archie Gordon stood within the doorway, his eyes aflame with green fire as he glared at Danielle across the room. To her credit, she did not cower before the sight of a tall, bristly Scottish man. In fact, she raised that proud little chin of hers and met his gaze unflinchingly.

“How dare you threaten Mo Chrìdhe!” Archie stalked into the room with Marianne close behind.

“You must be Archibald Gordon,” Danielle greeted in flat, conversational voice, as if this was an introduction and not a confrontation.

 “I’ll not have anyone bring harm to my wife.”

Archie’s rage permeated the room. Lucien wondered if he’d have to protect Danielle. The Scottish man looked ready to tear her limb from limb. He understood it. Marianne was his wife, and no one threatened a man’s wife unless they wanted the wrath of God visited on their person.

Had Danielle forgotten that? Her own father was an example. Lucien remembered Brutus’s devotion for Roseline. No one would ever have thought to offend that man’s lady.

Perhaps Danielle hadn’t taken into consideration that men who loved hard were forces of nature to be reckoned with.

Though Lucien desired Danielle he knew he could never come to care for her with an intensity as potent as Brutus, Archie, or any other man who possessed a whole heart. His heart had been shattered years ago. It would never heal. Discovering the futility of such a thing as romantic love had cured him of that long ago.

Mildly, he watched as Archie repeated almost verbatim the words that Marianne had told her, adding, “Your sisters have proven to be an asset to this agency.”

Danielle insisted, “I want my sisters returned.”

“I want you tried for threatening my wife’s life,” Archie clipped out.

Danielle’s eyes sparked, the gray orbs brilliant in her dark face. “My father is dying.”

“In normal circumstances, Miss Bradford, I would sympathize with your pain. But frankly, I don’t give a—”

“Archie, please!” Marianne interrupted.

The man breathed noisily through his nose. “I don’t care,” he amended. His hands shook with controlled violence. “If you were a man, I’d tear you to pieces.”

“You wouldn’t be able to lay a finger on me,” Danielle sneered. “Prince—,er, Lucien has already discovered that for himself.”

A bit of Archie’s range petered out. “Lucien?” He turned and his eyes widened as if seeing him for the first time. “What happened to your lip?”

“She did,” Lucien gestured in Danielle’s direction. “She attacked me with all the skill and dexterity of a mino warrior.”

Archie stared disbelievingly as he focused once more on Danielle. “You threaten my wife and then you attack one of my agents?”

Danielle’s prideful demeanor disappeared as she scowled. “Agent?”

Lucien almost grinned. Didn’t see that coming, did you, ma reine? Her astonished gaze turned toward him. He shrugged. For five years he’d been a Pinkerton agent. Then, when Hangbe had gone missing, he’d resigned in order to become a client.

“My wife,” Archie continued, “seems to think we shouldn’t let the incident go any further than with the people in this room. I, on the other hand, believe otherwise.”

“You can throw me into any of your rat-infested prisons,” Danielle declared defiantly, recovering from the knowledge of discovering he was a Pinkerton agent. “Just as long as my sisters are brought back here so they may go home. My father needs them, and I will do anything, pay any price, in order to spare his life.”

A frisson of excitement danced along Lucien’s skin. Now I have you, ma reine. Hangbe, I am coming for you.

“You Bradford women are all the same.” Archie scratched his beard. “Stubborn, mule-headed—”

“Beautiful,” Lucien interjected.

Archie glared at him from over his shoulder. “Irrelevant, and you know that, Lucien.”

Time now to intervene. Danielle had said the words he’d been waiting for. “Archie, I do believe I have the solution. It’s obvious that some sort of punishment is to be met out. If you’ll give me some more time with Miss Bradford—”

Archie shook his head. “All right, Lucien. Come see me when you are through.” Taking Marianne’s hand gently into his own, he led her out of the room and closed the door.

“Well, Prince Akaba. What do you propose that will mete out my appropriate punishment and satisfy all parties in exchange for my sisters?”

Lucien straightened and then went to stand before Danielle. He put aside all else. It was time for Danielle to bow to the destiny that was hers from the moment he laid eyes on her.

In a hard voice which surprised her, evident from the wrinkle in her brow, he announced, “You are going to become a Pinkerton agent.”

Danielle laughed, a husky sound that titillated her ears. “Prince Akaba—”

“This is no laughing matter,” he warned her, “Either you become a Pinkerton agent, or you go to jail. Everything I am about to tell you is true. You will become a Pinkerton agent because you are going to help me.”

The words he dreaded admitting broke from the prison he had placed them in.

“My twin sister has been abducted.”

CHAPTER THREE

The prince’s mercurial mood had altered once more. Danielle tried to ignore the man’s volatile disposition as well as the implications of what he demanded she become.

A Pinkerton agent. The only way that would happen was through a marriage of convenience. Everything inside of her recoiled. Her blood thickened like molasses in her veins as she recalled why she detested the Pinkertons so much.

These marriages had taken her sisters away from their father. She would not, could not, add to his pain.

She gave herself a mental shake and focused once more on what he said.

“Abducted?” The ugly word soured the back of her tongue. “By whom?”

Prince Akaba moved away from her. He prowled the confines of the drawing room, his movements controlled, but underneath that surface calm, his tension remained a palpable entity. Reminiscent of a black tiger caged and searching for escape. “We’re not sure.”

Danielle’s ears lifted at the verbiage. “We?”

“My father and I,” he clarified. “He received a note of ransom while he visited France during his last diplomatic trip. My sister, Hangbe, according to our understanding, was in the care of the nuns of the convent. Two weeks ago, when the nuns who were to oversee her religious instruction came for her daily lessons, they found the room empty.”

“That isn’t possible. Convents do not permit anyone to visit at night. Even in the day, no one is allowed but those purposed to be there.”

“Yet, ma reine, my sister is gone.” Sarcasm dripped from his voice. “Surprisingly, no one has seen her.”

“Impossible.” Danielle knew the distinctive sight of a tribal royal like Princess Hangbe would hardly go unnoticed.

“Is it?” Prince Akaba slashed the air in a gesture of frustration. “Her disappearance leads me to believe there is political intrigue afoot.”

Danielle had to agree. France’s truce with the kingdom Dahomey stayed as it was due to their desires for the exports of the country. However, France was more powerful than Dahomey in weaponry. Soon, France would do what it could to break the truce between the nations and conquer the kingdom for its own purposes.

“You may be correct, my prince.” With cynical observation, she added, “These Western powers do not allow others to rule when you have something they want.”

“So it would seem.”

A thought niggled in the back of her head. “My prince, if the princess was abducted in France, then what are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be back in France?”

The prince stared at the fire for a long moment. Firelight danced along the planes of his face, bringing into focus his brooding countenance. Prince Akaba was one of the most handsome men she’d ever seen.

In other circumstances, she would have allowed him to pursue her. Yet, her mother’s warnings had stayed her. Now, years later, she found Roseline’s admonitions to be accurate.

Why did that disappoint her?

The prince had made no demure about his physical want for her, but surely there was more to it than that? They both knew the only way he would ever have a remote chance of taking her would be as his wife, something that was unlikely to happen. She would not become a Pinkerton agent for any duration, and thus have the chain of matrimony placed upon her will in the name of goodness and justice.

When he spoke again, his voice was so low she could barely hear him, but she made out the words. “My father, in deference to the alliance with France, did reach out to the French government for assistance. He was promised many things, namely, the return of his daughter.”

“I take it promises were broken?”

“You are correct, ma reine.”

Danielle sighed. “If the French government is looking for her, surely they would have some clues to her whereabouts. Princess Hangbe is a royal.”

Prince Akaba’s eyes leveled on her with an intensity that made her uneasy. “Tell me, Danielle, do you know of a woman by the name of Lady Dallmann? Lady Elizabeth Dallmann?”

She frowned. “The name does sound familiar,” she replied slowly, tapping her bottom lip. Where had she heard the name from? It was on the tip of her tongue.

“It should. Your sister, Brielle is acquainted with her.”

Once he said that, Danielle remembered. “Brielle told me that she enjoyed the hospitality of Lady Dallmann last year.”

He nodded. “Lady Dallmann has connections all over the world. From London, to Paris, to the States and farther. Due to her catering of intellectuals, sometimes her circles include those within the higher echelons of government. I’m not certain how Lady Dallmann knew to contact me. Or, even knew where I was. But I received a message from her to come to Denver, Colorado. According to her note, she had information regarding my sister.”

His fists clenched, the skin along his knuckles tight. “When I arrived at her home, I was met by a man by the name of Benedict LaPierre. It seems he is some sort of…operative with the French Ministry of War.”

Danielle frowned. “That is another name I know. From what my sister said, she stated he was a fortune hunter, looking for a rich heiress.” She touched his arm, feeling the hardness of muscle sheathed under the material of his suit. “How can he be an operative?”

“I do not know. Frankly, it doesn’t matter. Benedict LaPierre risked much to give me information regarding my sister.”

“What was it he said?”

“He told me that my sister was no longer on French soil. She’d been smuggled across the ocean to America.”

“Why?”

“According to LaPierre, he and others within the Ministry of War had reliable information that the princess’s whereabouts had been discovered. I cannot remember the name of the town now, but according to LaPierre, they had gone there to recapture the princess when there was an ambush.”

“Indeed?” Her brows lowered. “How did the assailants know that LaPierre and the others were coming?”

Without warning, Prince Akaba reached out and cupped the side of her face. She gasped, jolted by the heat from his hand. Danielle could do nothing but stare up into his face as his thumb pressed her mouth gently against her teeth.

It was like a stamp of ownership.

With a husky tone, the prince murmured, “You must be mine, ma reine. Your intelligence is on par with your exquisite beauty.” The firelight reflected in the dark twin pools of his eyes, although she wasn’t sure if maybe it blazed from within. “I must possess them both.”

A jittery feeling coursed through her. She backed away and his hand fell to his side.

The imprint of his thumb lingered like a curious sort of brand. “I’ll never be your queen, my prince.”

“You will,” he assured her with the return of the arrogant certainty that made Danielle’s jaw clench.

He became brisk and continued as if he’d never been interrupted. “LaPierre and his men had captured one of the assailants and interrogated him. During the interrogation, the assailant revealed that the princess had been sent overseas.”

“To America.”

He gave a curt nod.

“What did your father say when you told him?”

“I’ve not said anything to my father about this matter. He still believes that France has his best interests at heart.”

“Why haven’t you told the king?”

“LaPierre mentioned to me that the Ministry of War is aware that the princess is no longer on French soil.”

“Then why keep that—”

Her mouth fell open as she realized what the prince was trying to tell her. “That’s the reason why you said there were political intrigues afoot.”

“Oui, ma reine. Dahomey is dependent on France. France craves Dahomey’s gold and precious metals. If my father knew that my sister was not in the country, then he would be forced to seek the assistance of the American government for his daughter.” A cynical twist of his lips. “I am sure you can assume how such a request would be received by the American government.”

“The French government wants to keep your father dependent.”

Danielle went over the details in her mind, trying to make sense of all she was told. A horrible thought rose up like a snake whose head she wanted to cut off. “Do you think…the princess is alive?”

The prince’s shoulders drooped. “LaPierre seems to think so. If she wasn’t alive, then France would have no leverage against my father. He also revealed to me that he believes France herself is behind the abduction of my sister.”

“That’s horrible.”

Prince Akaba’s face contorted. “It was not enough that I was forced to leave the home of my childhood and spend the next ten years entrenched in a society foreign to my own. My sister was also sent in the same capacity but in a different way. Now, if what LaPierre says is true, then they are using the royal house of Dahomey as if we are puppets with strings. Dosu—”

“Dosu?” Danielle lifted her brow in question.

“He is my younger brother, born after my sister and me. Dosu is the only one left at Dahomey but he will not inherit the throne when my father passes away. Only in the event of either my sister’s or my death, will it become his.”

“Have you told him about these machinations?”

The prince shook his head. “I’ve not talked to my brother in years. I’m sure my father has made him aware of the situation, but besides that, I do not know.”

Her heart ached for his pain. Impulsively she said, “What can I do, outside of becoming a Pinkerton agent, to help you, my prince?”

“There is no other way to help, ma reine. You must become an agent, and that means you must become my bride. It is the only way.”

***

“That is not an option, Prince Akaba,” Danielle told him in no uncertain terms. “I will not become an agent or your bride.”

Lucien took in a deep breath. “Before you say you’ve made your final decision, I must tell you why the only way I can accept your help is by becoming an agent.”

“It will make little difference.”

I hope not.

“The last bit of intelligence LaPierre was able to receive, which is the reason why he reached out to Lady Dallmann, is that the assailant wasn’t sure where my sister was smuggled to. It was narrowed down to three places: Texas, New Mexico, and Colorado.”

“Here? Why here?”

Lucien had asked the same question a few weeks ago. “I’m not sure, your Highness,” LaPierre had replied, his face wrinkled in concern. “It could be there are factions here that we have no knowledge of. It’s all very murky and covert. There’s also the very real possibility that this place was chosen at random because no one would think to look here. Least of all the king of Dahomey.”

He related the information to Danielle, seeing the worried frown on her face. “There has to be more reason than that, Prince Akaba.”

“There may be, but I cannot continue to mull over the problem when I have to find my sister. I can tell you this: I, with the help of the Pinkertons, was able to eliminate two of the three places mentioned.”

“Pinkertons.” She made the word sound like a curse.

“Do not be so quick to dismiss them. I know for a fact that your sisters and their husbands were the ones to eliminate those places.”

Lucien watched with twisted pleasure as his words sank in. “My sisters?”

“Oui, ma reine. Mr. and Mrs. Smith went to New Mexico and discreetly inquired for the whereabouts of a woman who resembled my sister. Mr. and Mrs. Addison went to Texas and made inquiries there. Mr. and Mrs. Blackburn used their political contacts to also assist in discovering where my sister may be.”

Danielle’s throat bobbed up and down.

“Your sisters were more than happy to assist the kingdom of Dahomey.”

Lucien’s amusement at Danielle’s discomfort faded away and he gripped her by the arms, giving her a little shake. “You do understand what I am saying, don’t you? They risked their lives to help me. The Pinkertons, this agency that you revile and hate so much, is the only place I could go to get help. The governments of the world have my father tangled in bureaucratic rigmarole designed to stave off a deeper view. Without the Pinkertons, I wouldn’t have known even that.”

“Prince Akaba, you’re hurting me.”

“Am I?” Something wild leapt inside of him, an uncontrollable urge that made him drag her body up against his. Her labored breathing blew across his face, her gray eyes wide. “Your pain is nothing compared to the pain I have. My twin sister has been gone for several weeks. I have no idea if she has come to harm or any other detrimental state. My father is dying, and her disappearance and the continued stonewalling of France is adding to his ill health.”

Lucien enfolded her into his arms, feeling her shock but uncaring. “Please, ma reine. Do not leave me. Your sisters have provided me their strengths. Won’t you provide your own for me?”

“But I—”

His arms tightened around her waist. The slimness of her form like a delicate, tender tree. If he squeezed too hard, it seemed as if she would break in two.

But that air of fragility was a lie. He had the bruise to prove it.

“You traveled across the world to bring your sisters back to your home in order to save your father from his alleged broken heart. You have the blessed knowledge of knowing your family is alive and well.” He pulled back and looked at her. “Would you begrudge me the same compassion? The same assurance? My sister is out there, somewhere. Alone. Frightened. I must be certain of her well-being. Please, Danielle. Help me.”

  She said nothing for what seemed like an eternity. Lucien’s heart pounded in his chest as he waited for her to answer his plea. Then she said, “My prince, I am not trained to become an agent. I don’t know what I can do. How can I go about helping you? We don’t even know if your sister is being held here.”

Lucien released her abruptly and smoothed the material of his suit. Of course, he should have told that part of the story, but he’d been overcome by his emotions.

“Through the help of your sisters, the Pinkertons,” he stated pointedly, “LaPierre was able to determine that a small faction of French nationals will be arriving here in Denver within the next week or so. Lady Dallmann, due to her position within society has been asked to act as an escort and a guide for them.

“These nationals have no idea that Lucien Moreau and Prince Akaba of the kingdom of Dahomey are one and the same person. While I was educated in France during my formative years, I went by the name of my home. When I left it behind, I used the alias of Lucien Moreau. These people have no idea.

“LaPierre believes one person among these nationals may be involved in this conspiracy of my sister. If so, then we would be able to apprehend them.”

Danielle’s face brightened with understanding. “I see, my prince. They have no idea that you are even in America. Your presence shall take them by surprise.”

“And hopefully spur them into action and perhaps, find the location of my sister.”

“How do I fit in as an agent and…and…as your bride?” She fumbled over the words and her head dipped.

“The Prince Akaba of Dahomey will be escorted by the general of his mino warriors.”

Danielle took a step back. “I will be your shield.”

“Yes. It is a practice of Dahomey, that the king is protected by his mino warriors, the all-female highly skilled virgin warriors.”

“But I can do that without marrying you, Prince Akaba.”

“No, you cannot. Archie will not allow an unmarried woman to be a member of his agency and not have the protection of a husband’s name. Your sisters, Arielle and Brielle are expecting. Camille, though she and her husband went to Texas for me, is leaving the agency for her and her husband’s own pursuits. None of the other females of the bureau can safely incorporate into my world as you can.”

He knew he’d torn down every one of her objections before she could speak them. Danielle knew how to defend herself. She knew how to shoot. Knew how to fight and had the strength and fortitude to protect him.

He could not have chosen a better warrior to be his shield.

Or a more lovely woman to be his bride.

“What of this matter of your desire for me? You made much of it, Prince Akaba.”

“I will continue to. I wanted you seven years ago and nothing has changed. However, until I find my sister, and I must believe that I will, you will be my bride in name only. But I forewarn you, I always meant to have you as my own and I will pursue you until you succumb to me of your own will.”

“Or,” she hardened her voice, “until this marriage is annulled.”

“Very well. Until either of those conditions are met.”

Danielle nodded. “Just so, as I have no wish to be your wife in truth.”

“Why, ma reine? Why is it so difficult to see yourself in my arms?”

“My prince, I have seen the love for your sister in your eyes. You have used any means to get me to agree to help you find her. I was moved by that. My family assisted yours and I can do no less. Yet, you are incapable of love outside of your family. I do not love you, but why should I give you my body when you cannot give me your heart?”

CHAPTER FOUR

A week later

Residence of Mr. and Lady Dallmann

Danielle stood before her prince and husband, feeling exposed, but comfortable at the same time.

The attire of the general position of Akaba’s mino was a highly decorated loose fitted tunic-like garment in bold colors that fell past her knees. A belt cinched her waist, leaving her arms, throat, and ankles exposed. About her head, she wore a decorated headdress of a bird’s feather, and wood beading covered the front of the garment.

The looseness of her clothing allowed for greater freedom of movement. She recalled how scandalous she felt when she’d worn men’s trousers at Arabette Grove against her mother’s wishes. These garments were even better as they gave her a sense of femininity without restriction.

She wondered what Roseline would have thought if she could see her youngest daughter now.

When she mentioned the markings that the warriors had painted on their faces, Akaba decided against it.

“It is enough that you will present the image of the savage maiden these French nationals expect you to be,” he explained to her.

She held a musket in her hands, although she wished she had a better firearm.

“Will I do, Akaba?” she asked.

His dark eyes roved over her person, saying nothing at first. What did he see as she stood dressed in the clothing of his kingdom? Did he see a woman he made no secret of desiring, but considered expendable?

Or did he see Danielle Bradford, his wife?

It was still strange to think of him as her husband. She’d fought the relationship with every ounce of strength she had, but in the end, she still succumbed to the inevitable and became his bride.

While he studied her, she studied him back. He was dressed in a similarly loose fitted garment longer than her own. The right shoulder was exposed, revealing the midnight dark perfection along with the bluish subtle tones of his skin. Muscles rippled underneath as he moved, and she found herself mesmerized by this outward sign of his masculinity.

The men of her world would have covered themselves completely. Looking at Akaba, seeing the strong column of his neck, the long, richly veined arms, and the bulging calves of his legs, there was something about the openness she’d long forgotten. His boldness was off-putting for her at first. But, seeing the prince like this, she appreciated it more.

He didn’t have to hide behind any forced societal conventions of courtship. Akaba’s forthrightness was a gift to a woman. There was no need to wonder if she could retain his interest. She had it. However, Danielle would never settle for less than his heart.

Despite the fact she wished to remain aloof from the prince, her fingers itched to touch the taut skin. See the contrast of her own coffee hued hand pressed against the opal darkness of his chest. Feel those arms wrapped around her. See his head bend toward her and…

Danielle suppressed a sudden shudder and reigned in her thoughts. She was here as part of a diplomatic mission to help the prince hopefully find his sister.

How could she do anything else when she learned of what her sisters had done? What would Brutus think when he received her letter?

The letter home to her father had been painful to write. She had promised Brutus, before she left, that she would come back with her sisters, and bring life back to Arabette Grove again. He had urged her not to go, but she’d been determined.

Now, she had to reveal she’d fallen into the same trap the Pinkerton agency had set for her sisters.

“You’ll do well, ma reine,” Akaba declared as he stood up from the chair in the large suite of rooms that Lady Dallmann had provided for them. “The loveliest of all my wives,” he quipped.

Had they been in Dahomey, he would have been married to all the women of his regiment just as his father was. When she and once asked how many women his father was married to, he casually told her about six thousand.

“Six thousand! Even King Solomon stopped at a thousand, Akaba.”

“Did he?” her husband grinned.

Ignoring his teasing, she wondered out loud, “Are they marriages in truth?”

Akaba gave a shrug. “Perhaps, though many of them are virgins. Most are recruited into the regiment at eight or ten years old. They undergo rigorous training in order to inure themselves to pain and discomfort. After all, they protect the most important person in all the kingdom.”

“Wouldn’t it have been better to have an army of men to guard the throne?”

An uneasy look had come into his eyes. “In times past, men would have been captured and…”

His voice had trailed off. “Oui, my prince?” she’d prompted when the silence went on longer than it should have.

“The men would have been traded as slaves.”

Danielle paused at that. “I see.”

“No, you do not. Neither do I for that matter. It is a practice the kingdom has had for a long time until recent years. We protected ourselves and raided other countries near our borders. Then the Western powers come, who are far superior to ours, who can easily subdue us. And so…”

“You traded in flesh in order to protect yourself from greater harm,” she’d finished for him, seeing the ugly, twisted logic.

Akaba glanced away from her. “In any event,” he went on, “the women protect the throne. They chant ‘as the blacksmith takes an iron bar and by fire changes its fashion so have we changed our nature. We are no longer women, we are men’.”

“Danielle?”

She jerked and came out of her memories. “My prince?”

“What were you thinking of?”

She didn’t want to reveal the direction of her thoughts, so she said instead, “I wondered if this plan is going to work. There are so many things that are uncertain. We still do not know where your sister is, or even if she is here.”

“We will take one thing at a time. We have this small hope.” His hand touched her chin and lifted her head up. “Let’s grab it, oui?” he said softly.

“Oui.”

“I wish you’d allow me to kiss you, Danielle,” he said unexpectedly.

“Akaba, you do not give up, do you?” There was nothing predatory about how he said it. In fact, he’d made no mention of the marital state beyond the means of it for this scheme that would be unfolded tonight.

“No, I don’t. Not when it’s you.” He then gave her a queer look. “Don’t you think it’s interesting that you, of all your father’s daughters, should be the strongest?”

“No, I do not,” she huffed.

“You said once that we make our own destiny, Danielle. But look! You, and only you, were given all the attributes I need, in this moment, at this time, to help me rescue my sister. Our steps are predestined, Danielle.” He looked away then, somber. “Never forget that.”

***

 Lucien had wondered what Danielle would look like dressed in the attire of Dahomey. Now that he saw her, she was as exquisite as he knew she would be. He longed to touch her, wrap her in his arms and press his lips to hers. It was even more difficult that she was his wife under every law known to man.

He had to remember that she was only here to help him find his sister. Each day that passed made the trail that led to her whereabouts disappear. Hangbe, though a strong woman, could still be overpowered by men who wished to harm her.

Tonight, the delegation of French nationals would attend a reception of honor in Lady Dallmann’s home. According to the plan he, LaPierre and Danielle had concocted, they would already be seated at the table when the nationals arrived. This would give them an advantage to see who possibly, if any one of them, would give something away.

A threadbare plan for sure, but it was the only one they had.

A knock at the door broke his concentration. Reluctantly he stepped away from his wife and then called out. “Come.”

The timid maid opened the door. She blushed a deep red when she saw his and Danielle’s attire. According to her standards, they were probably more indecent than she’d ever seen. “Your Highness, Lady Dallmann sent me to tell you if you are ready, to please come to the small dining room.”

“Merci,” he acknowledged the message.

The maid’s eyes lifted, and Lucien kept his laugh contained. Despite how scandalous she may find their attire, she couldn’t quite draw her eyes away from his form.

In the same way Danielle had stared.

With a final look, the maid drew the door closed.

“Really, Prince Akaba. Did you really have to be so forward with that young maid?”

Lucien looked at her with surprise. “I did nothing but acknowledge her mistress’s message. Nothing more than that.”

“I am not fooled, my prince. You let her gawk at you like a child would any tiger.”

Lucien didn’t know what to say. Why, if he didn’t know any better, he’d think Danielle was jealous that he had drawn the maid’s attention.

He said as much, and a scornful look appeared in his wife’s eyes. “I am hardly jealous, Prince Akaba. I was just mentioning that you did not have to be so forward and direct with the child.”

Waggling his eyebrows, he said, “I can’t help it if all women, including yourself, find me irresistible.”

Danielle scoffed and turned away but Lucien smiled. “Are you ready for the games to begin, my wife?”

“I don’t know. Although I am strong, and I have skills to defend you, I am not a member of your guard. What if something happens? Can I really prevent a disaster?”

“Let’s pray that it won’t come to that,” Lucien said.

His brow knitted. Her words caused an uneasy feeling to settle in the pit of his stomach. The idea of his wife being harmed in her duty to protect him…he didn’t like it.

What was wrong? In Dahomey, the women were the ones who put their lives on the line for the throne. They would think nothing of sacrificing themselves to protect the king.

So, why did he have qualms about it?

Lucien had no idea how to answer that internal reflection. Over the past few days, Danielle had practiced in one of the empty fields on the outskirts of the city. Her marksmanship was near perfect. She’d revealed that she’d practiced with all sorts of firearms back in Arabette Grove under the direction of her father.

“I think he saw in me potential that my other sisters lacked,” she told Lucien by way of explanation. “He never restricted anything from me, saying that my mother could protect herself.”

She knew how to fight in hand to hand combat, again, another throwback from her youth in Arabette Grove. “My father used to be a privateer. There was a man in his employ who sailed with him. A man from Brazil who had escaped. When my father became a plantation owner, he cast his lot with him. He’d approached all of us at some point, but I was the only one who wanted to learn more.”

Even with a knife, she showed herself to be dexterous. Not as good as the Indian agent with Archie’s branch, who’s knife-throwing skills were near legendary, but she knew how to use a knife. Which was the most important part.

The more knowledge he gained about his wife, the more he felt that she was handcrafted solely for him. Though not as fully trained as the mino warriors at home, she was well-suited to his protector, his shield.

But did he really want that?

You have no choice. This was predestined from the moment you saw her seven years ago. When you looked into those gray eyes, saw that heart-shaped face, and knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that your destiny was intermingled with hers.

“Prince Akaba?”

Lucien took in a deep breath and suppressed all his questions and doubts. He had to focus on what lay ahead.

He gestured toward the door. “Come general. Protect your prince.”

CHAPTER FIVE

Her sister Brielle had revealed in her letters home that Lady Dallmann’s hospitality could have rivaled the opulent surroundings of any aristocrat. Standing next to Akaba as he sat at the table with the group of French nationals, Danielle could easily believe she’d entered the home of a queen.

Sparkling glassware of elegant crystals tinkled as the nationals toasted the spread before them. Lady Dallmann had been extravagant in order to impress them. Roasted meats, vegetables spread out in every color of the rainbow, crusty breads, and desserts decadent in both form and taste, and wine poured freely, of which the Frenchmen took advantage.

It was a good thing that her nerves prevented her from eating or she would have been salivating at the sight of the tables.

“Does she understand us, your Highness?”

Danielle longed to take her knife and stab the man who’d ask the question. His name was Phillipe Dubois. Short with thick black hair, dark blue eyes, he was dressed as a gentleman. According to the introductions, he had ambassadorial duties that took him frequently to Akaba’s home of Dahomey. The prince had recognized him at once. Monsieur Dubois had paused in shock when he saw Akaba, but quickly regained his composure.

“Lady Dallmann,” he noted as he sat down. “You neglected to tell us we would be visited by such a distinguished guest.”

“My apologies, Monsieur Dubois,” Lady Dallmann demurred smoothly. “It was rather a last-minute addition. I hope we haven’t unsettled you with His Highness’ presence.”

“Of course not.” He bowed to the prince who nodded in return. “It is good to see you again. I was unaware you were no longer in France.”

“Monsieur Dubois, I hardly need to let the French government know of my whereabouts at all times, do I?”

“Of course not, your Highness.” Then he glanced over at Danielle and his eyes gleamed. “Ah, your Amazon is in attendance.”

Amazon? Danielle wanted to cut off his lips for calling her such a horrible name.

“Mino, Monsieur Dubois, which I am sure you know already means ‘our mother’ in the language of my people.”

“Yes, yes, of course, your Highness. My mistake.”

Danielle said nothing during this entire exchange, keeping her silence as met a woman who protected the throne. Yet, she’d felt Monsieur Dubois’ gaze land on her again and again during dinner. His lustful gaze made her angry. Strange how Akaba, with his unfettered desire for her made her feel like a woman while this Frenchman made her feel like an object.

“What does it matter if she understands us or not, Monsieur Dubois?” The prince asked as he took a sip of wine after the last course had been taken away.

“It doesn’t. I just wondered.” His blue-eyed gaze landed on her again. “She looks a little bit different from the mino I have seen in your country although I can’t quite put my finger on what makes her so.”

“Don’t be rude, Phillippe,” the man beside him, Claude St Martin, admonished. “I would think you’d have more tact than that to offend Prince Akaba.”

She had no idea what to make of Claude St. Martin. Of the three nationals, he had an inscrutable face. Blonde hair plastered against his head with a thin mustache and brown eyes gave the man a distinguished appearance.

“My apologies, your Highness.” Monsieur Dubois gave a slight bow.

“No apologies needed.” Akaba leaned forward across the table. “Tell me, does your government yet have news of my twin sister’s disappearance?”

An uneasy silence settled over the table. The third man, Vincent LeBlanc lifted his hand in a placating way. “Our sincere apologies, your Highness. But as of now, we have not received word that the princess’s whereabouts have been discovered.”

Vincent LeBlanc sweated a lot. A stout man with fat jowls and sparse thinning hair, he continually kept using the cloth handkerchief Lady Dallmann had provided to wipe the trails of sweat that dotted his forehead and temples. During the meal, when he lifted his arms to gesture at some point in the conversation, dark wet patches stained the underarms of his clothing.

His eyes never stayed still for that matter. They darted around constantly as if searching for an escape.

“What news do you have so far?” Akaba steepled his hands under his chin.

“Your Highness, surely we don’t have to discuss affairs of state at the dinner of this gracious lady,” Monsieur St. Martin intervened with a weak smile in Lady Dallmann’s direction.

“It’s not a bother to me at all, monsieur. However, in deference to your discomfiture, I’ll excuse myself and allow you men to continue your discussion in private.”

Protests sounded out but Lady Dallmann insisted and soon she’d left the table. Perhaps the woman knew that the men would not have been as forthcoming with a woman as highly connected as she.

“Your report, Monsieur St. Martin.”

“Well, there’s not anything new to add to what was reported to your father before, your Highness.”

Prince Akaba, though he didn’t move, managed to project his displeasure. She felt the tension emanating like a flood. “Humor me, monsieur.”

“We did talk with the nuns at the convent, your Highness. None of them recalled anything out of the ordinary the day before the princess disappeared.”

“Nothing?” Akaba repeated. “Not a thing?”

“No, your Highness.” Then, St. Martin frowned. “Although…”

Danielle stiffened the muscles in her legs to keep from leaning forward eagerly.

“Although?”

“One of the nuns made mention that the princess did receive a message from someone. She didn’t know who the message came from, nor did she pry, but it was delivered and given to the princess.”

“Was the message still there the next morning?”

“No. We asked the nuns to search the room where the princess had been kept but they couldn’t find it. Perhaps the princess destroyed it.”

That seemed a ridiculous, rather blatant oversight. If Princess Hangbe received a message the day before and went missing the next day, surely these officials could see there was something amiss. Without looking at Akaba, or even asking, she could tell that this information had not been shared with him before.

Perhaps his suspicions that France did indeed have something to do directly with his sister’s abduction had gained more proof.

“What about the reward my father offered?”

“It has not been enough for anyone to come forward with reliable information.”

Akaba drummed his fingers on the table. “Twelve thousand francs is not enough to give anyone the motivation?”

Danielle’s stomach lurched in surprise. That seemed highly unlikely that no one would come forward.

“I’m sorry, your Highness, it is not enough inducement.” Monsieur St. Martin gave a mournful shake of his head.

“Let’s be honest, gentleman. France has no intention of finding my sister, does she?” The anger in the prince’s voice snapped like the flick of a whip. The Frenchmen stirred uncomfortably in their seats.

“That certainly is not true, your Highness. We are doing all we can to find the princess.”

Akaba slammed his fist on the table. The remaining dishware clattered. “Do you expect me to believe that? Here you are, in this country, while my sister languishes in some unknown state back in France. It’s been weeks since her disappearance, and you have nothing to show for your efforts?”

“We can also ask you the same question, your Highness.” Monsieur LeBlanc wiped more moisture from his brow. Did the man ever stop sweating?

“My reasons for being here are not up for discussion.”

Good, my prince. Don’t let them put you into a corner.

“Your Highness, please let us explain—”

“My father is not sitting before you, gentlemen,” Prince Akaba said. “I will not be placated by meaningless words. Your incompetence is staggering.”

“We are doing all we can to find Princess Hangbe,” Monsieur St. Martin interjected, although his face remained impassive. “There’s no need to become insulting.”

“It’s an insult to hear your pitiful excuses!”

“Let’s stop these insults, your Highness,” Monsieur Dubois leaned forward, his dark blue eyes hard. “The kingdom of Dahomey depends on our friendship in order for you to keep power in your region of the continent.”

“Ridiculous! We do not need your ‘friendship’ as you call it.

“Then why did your father send you to France when you and your sister were both children?” Monsieur Dubois practically sneered. “He wanted you to learn our ways and understand how we do things.”

“My father sent us because he wanted to strengthen the connection between our countries. You’ve learned about our ways and we’ve learned about yours. You have access to what goods and exports you wish in exchange for peace. For that reason alone, your government should be doing all it can to find my sister.”

“I assure you, your Highness, we are doing all we can despite your belief to the contrary.”

Danielle knew someone here was lying. But who?

***

Which one of these men knew the location of his sister?

Lucien tried to bring his temper under control. If he allowed his emotions to run rampant, that would only push the men further away and make them less cooperative.

It was difficult to hear what they were saying. Dubois’ words brought back memories of his childhood, when he and Hangbe had been exiled and handed over to the clutches of France.

“You will live among these people,” his father had commanded after extensive discussion with the Great Council, the body of dignitaries from all over the kingdom. “It will be good to see what these men are like.”

“Will I see you again, my king?”

His father smoked his pipe, his dark eyes gazing at his son and heir. “You will at some time. Now, I wonder what sort of man you will become.”

The king blew out smoke. “These men object to almost every aspect of our way of life. Our industry, our gods, and our human sacrifices. They know much about us but what do we know of them?”

In a way, he’d been sacrificed to the god of diplomacy. Ripped from everything familiar, he’d been broken down and then remade as much as possible in the image of the French man.

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.

He looked as if he were going into an apoplexy.

“Enough with this! You need to know your place.” Monsieur Dubois lunged at the prince; his hands stretched out as if to strangle him. Danielle rushed forward, taking a defensive stance before Akaba.

“Come near my prince and I will break your hands,” she promised with deadly certainty.

From behind, she heard the dry amusement in the prince’s voice as he drawled, “You have seen demonstrations of my mino warrior’s strength, Dubois. Surely you know that if you touch me, you will live to regret it.”

An uneasy expression crossed the man’s face. He breathed hard but stopped before her. With an angry sound, he turned away. She moved back to her place by his side but kept a wary vigil.

“Do you think we need the alliance with Dahomey? You people are nothing more than savages.”

“Phillippe!” Monsieur LeBlanc cried out in horror, wiping at his forehead. “Be quiet.”

“I won’t let this…this…charade go on. You’re nothing, comprendre? Nothing. We can crush your kingdom with very little effort.”

“Is that a threat, Dubois?”

The room splintered into a taut silence. Danielle’s nerve endings stretched like bands of rubber. She inched closer to the prince, her body poised and ready to defend.

Monsieur Dubois glared with a blistering rage that the prince met unflinchingly.

“Do you want to know what happened to the princess? We took her!”

Akaba tensed. “What?”

“We took her from the convent.” The man ran his hand up and down the front of his coat in a jittery way. “We staged the abduction in order to encourage your father to submit to French control. We had her safe and sound, but by the time your father arrived back in France, someone else had taken her.”

Danielle gasped, “Akaba!”

“Silence,” he ordered with a lift of his hand. His forehead creased. “What do you mean someone else took her?”

“Est-ce que tu parles Français?” Sarcasm dripped from his lips.

“Et je parle aussi anglais, allemand et italien,” Akaba replied in the same manner.

“I can repeat what I just said in English, German, and Italian if you want. It still amounts to the same thing. Someone, we don’t know who, took her from us.”

“What happened after you discovered the princess was gone?”

Here, Monsieur St. Martin took over, relating the same story that Benedict LaPierre had mentioned, thereby proving that the story was at least true up until that point.

“We didn’t have the resources to search in Texas and New Mexico,” he ended.

Akaba and she shared a look. This was the reason why he had gone to the Pinkertons for aid. Her sisters had provided that aid. For the first time since she came across the ocean to bring her sisters back home, she was grateful for the Pinkertons.

“Several days ago, before our arrival, we received word that the princess was held captive here.”

“Where is here?”

Monsieur Dubois responded. “According to the message, she’s in a small town roughly two days’ journey from here called Canon City. We were to meet there and retrieve the princess in exchange for—”

He stopped talking and an odd, mutinous expression dominated his face.

“In exchange for what?” Akaba repeated.

“Your father’s abdication.”

***

Lucien could barely breathe at the revelations Dubois had unveiled.

His sister’s freedom for his father’s abdication. Wildly, amidst the turmoil of his mind, he admired the brilliance to such treachery.

Who could benefit from a turn of events like this? What foreign power? He mulled over it in his mind. England? It was plausible, but for what purpose? America? In the past, they had gained a large population of the formerly enslaved from Dahomey’s slave trade, but that no longer existed.

His mind sifted through the catalog of Western powers who may want the abdication. All had something to gain, so narrowing down the list wasn’t possible.

Perhaps it was the neighboring powers at home, close to the borders who would be more than pleased to have the king dethroned.

As soon as he thought of this, he dismissed the idea of neighbors being involved. None of those countries would go to these lengths to abduct Hangbe and smuggle her to the New World.

Something else was going on. Something he couldn’t identify, but he knew instinctively there was more to this than even he could see at this time.

“Do you see why we were adamant about keeping this secret? The message we received demanded we tell no one about this. We had every intention of returning your sister. But now, because of you, her life is at risk.”

“Her life is at risk because you wanted to try to control the throne of Dahomey!” Lucien let out a harsh breath and then looked into his wife’s gray eyes. They met his calmly. He stared for a long moment into their depths, feeding and drawing from her like a desert ground to a fountain of water.

Take what you want, Akaba, she seemed to say. Take what you want from me.

I want everything you have. Every part of you to belong to me. In return, I will give you my whole being.

During the chaotic storm he discovered he was in love with this strong, capable woman. He had loved her from the moment he saw her. How strange that while his family was at risk, a new family had the potential to emerge.

Soothed now, he reluctantly turned his gaze back to the men whose heads he wanted to chop off. “We must go to Canon City now.”

St. Martin spoke up. “There are tracks some thirty-five miles west of Canon City. We can take the railroad as far as it goes and then hire horses to go the rest of the way.”

“How do you know where it is?”

LeBlanc reached into his vest coat and withdrew a sheet of folded paper. Even from his vantage point, Lucien could see the paper was damp.

“A rather crude map has been drawn.” He stood and went to hand the map to Lucien who shook his head. “You can keep it and we’ll refer to it as needed.”

He glanced at the grandfather clock standing in the corner of the room. “We leave within two hours.”

A look passed among the men and then Dubois said, “Prince Akaba, as you may know, it’s possible that as a Negro, you may not be allowed to ride on the train. Or, if you are, you may be placed in an uncomfortable position.”

Lucien shook his head. “Nothing can be more uncomfortable than accompanying spineless, despicable men like you. Let me be clear: nothing and no one is going to stop me. If I must tie myself to the roof of the train, I will get my sister back, safe and sound.”

CHAPTER SEVEN

Canon City, Colorado

Dried trails of water stained the rough walls of the mine shaft. Rotted wood hung from the low ceiling. The air tasted odd and he grimaced at its taste. A cold shaft of air blew from inside and he bundled deep into his coat.

Danielle shivered by his side. “Are you all right, ma reine?”

She nodded but her eyes were wide in the low light.

They were in a single file line, tripping over the uneven ground where carts must have once carried their booty to the surface. The deeper they went into the shaft, the more nervous he became. The darkness encroached like a demon, thick and cloudy, but he pushed away his morbid thoughts.

Nothing would come from that. Somewhere, he had to believe his sister was there.

The train ride was uneventful, as well as the stagecoach to the small town. Now, it had all came down to this miserable trail.

LeBlanc’s voice echoed back, sounding tinny. “There’s a fork and we’re to turn left.”

Left.

“How far does this mine shaft go?” He asked, not because he really wanted to know but because he wanted to keep himself occupied.

“I’m not sure, your Highness.” St. Martin coughed, disturbing particles of dust and rock as he leaned against the wall. “Some of these shafts can go on for hundreds of feet.”

Deep into the earth they went. He worried about Hangbe, being trapped or carried to a place like this. She could take care of herself, but this shaft could turn the hardiest and bravest soul into a wimple.

“Don’t let it bother you, Akaba. We’re almost there.”

Again, Danielle knew exactly what to say as if she could read his mind.

Hangbe would like her as a sister-in-law.

Please let her be alive.

The fork in the road came and they all turned left as LeBlanc had instructed. Although the lantern glowed, it seemed as if the darkness began to eat away at it. The natural light from the sun was no longer behind them to illuminate the way.

All the way here, Lucien probed his mind to see who could be behind this. He still wasn’t close to having an answer. The person had gone through incredible lengths to abduct his sister and bring her in. It was the move of someone for whom this was personal.

But who?

They came to a chamber where water dribbled down the walls and the stale air was more pungent. The beams above had nearly collapsed and in the center of it, stood five figures. The dim light behind them kept their features in the dark.

“We’re here as you asked,” he called out. “Where is the princess?”
None of the darkened figures moved. And then, one came forward. His mouth dropped open.

“Brother.”

Hangbe stood there. Weak and gaunt, her face dusty and a scruff of hair on her normally smooth bald head. But she was alive. Her eyes were red rimmed and sad. An incredible weight sagged her shoulders.

“Hangbe.” Lucien went to take a step forward when a voice snapped. “Don’t come closer.”

Then all the blood drained out of his body so quickly that it was like getting hit by a blast of cold wind.

“Dosu?”

His eyes adjusted to the dark as he saw the form of his younger brother come into view. “Brother.”

The strength went out of his legs and he would have fallen to the ground if Danielle hadn’t held him up. He couldn’t believe. It wasn’t possible. How could his brother be here in this dark, dank shaft when he should be home with their father?

“Dosu, how? Why?”

His brother gestured and three figures came forward. They were all dressed in Western clothes but from the paint decorating their faces, he recognized their identity.

Mino warriors.

Their stern faces reflected nothing within their depths.

“I will release our sister if our father abdicates the throne.”

Lucien looked at the sight of his brother, seeing they shared the same dark skin, the same proud bearing, and the same blood. How? How could he do this?

“Why, Dosu?”

His heart was breaking.

“I want the throne. It is that simple. Father grows weak and soon, he will die.” His brother came forward. “For far too long, we have done everything to defy the Western power. Brother, they are stronger than us. It doesn’t matter how long we resist, they will overpower us.”

Dosu came toward him further, his arms stretched out in entreaty. “If father abdicates, I have enough support from the Great Council to become the reigning king of Dahomey. Under me, our kingdom will continue to thrive as we work with the Western powers, not against them.”

Lucien shook his head. “You were aware of the abduction plot and you…approved of it.”

“I was the one who came to them with the idea.”

A gasp from Danielle came at the same time his breath lodged in his throat. He stared at the French nationals who had come all this way. Something like disgust crawled along his skin.

“It’s true, Prince Akaba,” LeBlanc answered, wiping at his forehead with a dirty handkerchief. “Everything, up until Prince Dosu stole his sister from us.”

“Working together does not mean I will allow you to make Dahomey your footstool. I had to do it because I knew you would renege on our bargain.”

The men said nothing.

“You were the one who knew I was in Colorado. You were the only one I had told before I left. But you wanted to confuse the French, so you…”

Incredible.

There was a hole where his heart was. He stole a glance at Hangbe and understood why her desolation hung so heavy on her shoulders.

“You could have spoken to me, Dosu,” Akaba told him hollowly. “You didn’t have to do this.”

He let out a travesty of a laugh, soured by the taste of the air. “I never wanted the throne. I was going to tell the king before he passed away to select a new king.”

It was Dosu’s turn to look surprised. “You were?”

“Oui.” He shook his head. “All this for absolutely nothing.”

“Not quite, Akaba,” Dosu replied in a strange voice. “You see, even if Father abdicates, there is still one more obstacle.”

“What obstacle?”

Dosu said nothing. No one did. The hush settled over them, and Lucien realized exactly what his brother meant. “Me?”

“You and Hangbe,” he agreed. “You both have a claim to the throne more than I do. Even if you were to let the Great Council know, Hangbe still has a right to the throne.”

Then, while Lucien was still coming to grips with the betrayal, Dosu shrugged. “She has made it clear that she will rule in my stead.”

Danielle stepped in front of him, her body ready in defense. “If you wish to harm the prince, you will have to defeat me.”

“No, Danielle!” Lucien cried out. “You can’t defeat the mino. You’re not nearly as trained as they are.”

“It doesn’t matter, my prince.” She eyed the women who had taken defensive stances before Dosu. “I promised I would protect you and I shall.”

A muscle leapt in her jaw.

“No, Danielle, you can’t.”

Dosu’s eyes narrowed. “You’d do well to heed my brother, woman. You truly are no match for the mino.” Then he frowned. “Who are you, anyway?”

Her voice was filled with scorn. “Your sister, Prince Dosu.”

His eyes widened. When he turned the white orbs to Lucien, he gave a grim nod.

“Well, if you wish to defend against my warriors, then you shall.”

The mino began to circle around her.

Lucien couldn’t let her do this. She could be killed by these women. They were hardened, having fought and won against men far stronger than they.

Lucien grabbed her to pull her away when she whirled around struck him in the face. Pain shot through the middle of his face. Blood gushed from his nose and he stumbled back. The chamber echoed with everyone’s shock.

“Danielle!”

“Stay back!” she barked her eyes darting from one to the other. The mino weren’t even smiling. They didn’t have to. They knew this would be a quick battle.

“You’ll be killed.”

“Prince Dosu,” she called out. “If I win this, will you let Princess Hangbe and my husband go unharmed?”

“There’s no way you can,” he said, almost sadly.

“That’s not what I said. If I win, will you let them go?”

The mino were drawing the circle closer around her. Lucien’s heart was stuck in his throat, the coppery taste of blood on his tongue, paling to the overwhelming taste of fear for his wife’s life.

“If you do, I will let my brother and sister go unharmed.” Dosu gave an emphatic nod. “You have my word.”

“Good.”

The women, as if in complete harmony screamed out a war cry. It shattered the tense air, and Danielle lunged forward.

***

Everything was predestined. Danielle realized that now. Every time she shot her gun, had learned to fight, learned to defend herself, it was all for this moment. Where she stood now, she was the only one able to defend her husband and keep a country from possible civil war.

Her entire body tingled, and her heart raced. Blood flowed through her veins like lava. She prayed the shortest prayer she knew.

Help me, Lord.

The mino to her left lunged, and crouched, sweeping her feet to knock Danielle off balance.

Danielle jumped away before she made contact when a grip of stone wrapped around her neck. The woman squeezed, hard, and she could see stars forming in her vision. Through the blood pounding in her ear, she heard her name being called. She beat at the arm, but it was as immovable as rock. Her breath was getting weaker.

Think! 

With a suddenness that took her captor by surprise, she slammed her head back as hard as she could, feeling something crunch as she did.

The mino’s grip loosened and Danielle kicked the woman away. Another came forward but Danielle ducked, clenching her fist like a prizefighter and punching the woman’s stomach several times just as she’d been shown all those years ago.

It made no impact. Her assailant’s stomach was like a brick wall. The woman’s fist darted out and hit Danielle in the face. Pain lanced up and down her face, but she shook it off. She ran at the woman fast, wrapping her arms around her waist and lifting her up. Yelling, she ran her into the far wall, feeling the impact tunnel through their bodies. Dust fell around them as the mino’s body hit the beam.

The mino cried out but tried to break her hold by hitting Danielle’s shoulders.

Danielle shouted, and repeatedly hit the woman into the wall.

She must protect the prince.

Suddenly something dug into her hair and yanked her back.  Her hold loosened on the woman, but she kicked her feet into the air at the last moment and kicked the woman in the chin. Her head went at an unnatural angle and she fell to the ground, not moving.

Danielle almost froze at what she had done.

There was a person no longer of this world because of her.

An inhuman snarl broke through her temporary madness and she shoved it away, using her hands in order to unhook the cruel fingers in her hair.

The mino with the broken nose came in the front, smiling in a way that sent a wave of fear through her. Despite her efforts, she could not escape. The woman grinned, the blood staining her teeth as she withdrew a knife from her belt.

Danielle struggled harder but she couldn’t move. She wasn’t going to win this and the prince would be killed.

The mino raised her hand with the knife, a grim smile on her face. The woman’s breath who held Danielle expelled her breath rapidly.

Danielle stared as Akaba stood in horror. He started to run toward her, but she knew it was too late.

I love you, my prince.

Just as the knife came down, the earth began to shake.

The mino who had the knife gazed wildly around, her eyes darting with fear. Underneath her, the floor cracked, and the woman jumped out of the way as it widened.

“The mine is collapsing!” Monsieur St. Martin cried out. “Run!”

She was let go and fell to the ground. Akaba ran toward her and lifted her to her feet. “Danielle!”

“Go, we have to go!”

Everyone ran, stumbling as the earth shook, the beams above loosened from their clasp and falling, slowing their progress. Rocks rolled by.  Everyone ran, jumping over obstacles, coughing, and crying out. Each one trying to save themselves.

Akaba’s grip almost broke the bones in her fingers but she didn’t care. Rather broken fingers than whole and dead in the belly of a mine.

Light before them came flooding in, but the instability of the earth increased. Water sprayed out from what seemed like hidden geysers, drenching them. Dust got into their eyes, obscuring their vision but no one stopped.

More of the ceiling began to crumble. More beams crashed to the ground.

The shaking grew worse and the entrance seemed to grow dimmer. Rocks rained down like a torrential storm.

“Everyone run!” she yelled.

As if her voice had imbued them all with strength, their speed picked up. Then, just as they reached the entrance, a shower of boulders fell.

“Everyone jump!”

No one had to be told twice. Animal-like growls erupted and all at once, everyone leapt forward.

They scraped their hands on rocks but they cleared the entrance. Even then, they crawled away, Akaba with his hand around her waist, dragging her forward. Plumes of dust and smoke billowed forth. When it cleared, only rocks existed where there once was an entrance.

Her heart hammered in her chest, but Akaba yanked her to her feet.

“Danielle? Danielle!”

Before she could speak, she was lifted into his arms and crushed against his body. Though aches and pains from her fight with the mino assaulted all parts of her body, she hugged him back.

She was alive. He was alive.

A movement to her side caught her eye and she yanked herself out of his arms and stood, shielding her husband.

Dosu stood there, covered in a thick coating of dust. “You did not win.”

The remaining mino warriors came forward.

“NO!” Akaba snatched her back. “No more of this, brother.”

“Let me finish, Akaba.” He came forward until he stood just in front of Akaba who kept her behind him. “You did not win and neither did my mino.”

Akaba yelled, “The throne is yours, Dosu. You can have it.”

“Yes, brother.”

Hangbe’s voice came from behind him. She limped toward them, her body filthy and dirty but there was still that inescapable sense of royalty within her. She stood proud and tall. “You can have the throne. I will not contest you.”

“How do I know you will not renege?”

A look of incredible sadness came over her face. “Because I will not be there when the scorpions you say are not scorpions sting you.”

Dosu looked back and forth between his siblings. Something of the hardness in his eyes softened. “I must do what is best for Dahomey.”

Akaba wrapped his arm around Danielle’s waist. “This will be the last I ever see you, Dosu.”

“And I,” Hangbe added.

Akaba, holding Danielle close, turned and walked away. Hangbe lagged but still followed them. Danielle glanced behind her to see the Frenchmen that Dosu wanted to align himself with, all crowded around him and his warriors.

She shook her head, faced forward, and never looked back.

CHAPTER EIGHT

“Are you still going to send me to jail, Archie?”

Danielle leaned back into the chair in the Pinkerton office. Her arm was in a sling and there were bandages on her face and wrist. Thankfully, when she was examined by a doctor, nothing was broken.

“No. I’ve been made aware of all that has occurred since you’ve been here. Lucien has given me a detailed report.” Archie’s eyes roved her bruised face. “It looks like you make one heck of an agent.” He lifted his brow. “Interested in joining?”

She allowed a small smile to grace her lips. Her animosity had fully disappeared, and she appreciated what this tiny office did for its clients. She had no more complaints.
“I’ll let you know.”

Dismissed, she left the office, thinking of her father. He should be receiving the letter soon but now, she had to write a new one.

One that would ask him to come and stay with his daughters.

“Danielle!”

She turned and her other thoughts fled. “Akaba!”

He ran down the hall and before she knew it, he held her in his arms and kissed her. Kissed her with all the pent-up emotions he had. Kissed her with passion and love. His mouth roved over her lips, nipping at the top and the bottom, then trailed over to her neck and sipped at the collar bone.

She shivered in response and he stopped.

“Are you okay?” Anxiously he looked her over.

“I’m fine.” She reached up and dragged his head back to her. “More than fine.”

The kiss went on and on, consuming them like flames of fire as their passion burned away the rest of the world, until they couldn’t hear anything.

“Danielle? Danielle is that you?”

Reluctantly she ripped her lips away, but she turned to see Arielle standing in the hallway, a satchel with her along with a swollen belly.

“Arielle!”

She raced down the hall uncaring of the pain in her arm. “Arielle, Arielle!”

“Danielle!”

She pulled away to see both Brielle and Camille there, their eyes astonished and happy. Laughing and crying at the same time, she hugged them all, feeling joy course through her.

When their tears of reunion subsided, they all pulled back and looked at each other. Arielle was the first to speak. “What happened to your face?”

“How did you get here? Is Papa all right?” Brielle asked.

Camille pushed her way in. “Who is that man you were kissing?”

Danielle turned just as Akaba reached them. In unison, the sisters gasped. “We know who he is now. Prince Akaba!” With an air of deference, they bowed but Akaba waved it aside. “No need for that. I’ve abdicated the throne so you can now call me brother.”

Their mouths dropped open, but it was Camille who said. “Let’s go into the library. Start from the beginning and don’t leave a thing out.”

With her sisters all together and their arms wrapped around each other, Danielle started. “Well, it all started when I almost shot Marianne…”

EPILOGUE

August 1872

Trinidad, Colorado

The Bradford sisters and their husbands spent the entire weekend with Cathay, the first female buffalo soldier who disguised herself as a man and fought for the Union. They had always made a point to visit her at every opportunity. But now, as all the sisters were gathered in one place, they decided to make a special trip to visit the neglected veteran.

A knock at the door interrupted the merriment. Cathay, in her gruff voice asked, “Who could that be?” She made as if to get up, but the sisters waved her back down.

“You know you can’t move well, Miss Williams,” Arielle stated with censure in her voice. Her hand rested on her swollen belly. The child was due within the next two months. The Bradfords eagerly awaited the new addition to the family.

“I’ll go check.” Caleb uncurled his seven-foot frame from the miniscule chair that groaned in relief as he left it.

“I’ll come with you.” Matthias stood as well. His eyes narrowed. “Can’t be too careful.”

Caleb looked down at the man. “Do you think someone is going to hurt me?”

Matthias grinned and slapped the giant on his back. “Still, safety in numbers.”

They left the small room.

“I wonder who that could be.” Camille stood and started to clear the remnants of the dinner they’d all partaken of. “It’s rather late to be receiving callers.”

“We’ll soon find out, won’t we?” Brielle sniffed and then shifted in the hard chair. She rested her hand on her belly, swollen with child. “You know, Arielle, it’s going to be an interesting race to see which of our young ones are going to emerge first.”

Her eldest sister laughed. “Mine will. The way this one is kicking me, he or she, is just waiting for the day they can meet the world. I can’t wait to write to Papa and tell him the news.”

Danielle frowned. “Have you decided on a name?”

“Not yet,” Arielle remarked and then rubbed her back. “We’re waiting to see who we will be blessed with before choosing a name.”

“Matthias has already determined that we should name our little one after his father, in either the masculine and feminine form.”

“That’s honorable. I remember when you told me his father had—”

Caleb and Matthias came back into the room. Alone.

“Who was it, Caleb?” Arielle lifted an eyebrow in inquiry.

“A messenger from the Pinkerton agency.” He held up a thick envelope. “It’s addressed to you, Danielle?”

Danielle’s heart fell to the floor. “Oh no!”

Cathay patted her on the hand. “What is it, child?”

She said nothing but reached out her hand for the letter. Lucien rested his arm around her shoulders.

Arielle, Brielle, and Camille stared at her. “What is it?”

With shaking hands, she ripped open the letter and started to read its contents. For every second that passed, the blood in her body drained until she was nothing more than a cold, breathing statute.

Everyone waited with pent up breath, caught in the palpable maelstrom as Danielle fixed all her focus and attention on the contents of the letter. Each time she finished a page, she set it upside down on the small table next to her chair.

Lucien got up and went over to the window. A muscle clenched in his jaw. He knew something awful had happened.

When the final page was turned upside down, Danielle’s head drooped.

Camille asked gently, “What is it, sister?”

When she raised her head, her eyes shone with tears. “Papa is dead.”

Arielle, Brielle, and Camille gasped. The dishes that Camille had been holding fell from her nerveless fingers. Rounder grabbed them before they touched the ground, his bright ivory face taut with restraint and worry for his wife. Each man went toward his wife and gathered her in their arms as they wept.

“Who is the letter from?” Brielle’s fingers shook so hard she clasped them together. Matthias grabbed them and brought them to his lips.

“Percy Willmington, from Armoise Orchard. I’d asked him to keep watch over Papa while I was here. I was going to write to Papa and ask him to come live with us.” Tears spilled in minute trails down Danielle’s cheeks. Lucien kissed her forehead in a gentle way. “Percy says Arabette Grove is gone.”

“Gone!” Everyone shouted in the room.

Mournfully, Danielle nodded. “It was burned a month ago now.” She looked up. “Percy says all the workers are safe and accounted for. But Papa’s body…” her voice broke. “Papa’s body was never found.”

“But what caused the fire?” Brielle wiped the tears from her eyes. “I want to know what happened.”

“The letter doesn’t say.”

“I won’t stand for this,” Arielle shouted, her wet eyes flashing. “We need to go back. We’re all Pinkertons here.” Looking at Camille, she said, “Well, most of us are. I want to know what happened.”

“You’re not going anywhere right now, Arielle.” Caleb’s arms squeezed her tighter.

“I’m fine,” Arielle growled out. “I say we—”

There was another knock at the door.

Cathay clucked like a chicken. “Sure gotta lot of people visiting late tonight.”

Rounder gently set his wife on the settee and slid a finger down the side of her face, wiping away a tear. “I’ll get it.”

Silence reigned over everyone as the Bradford women mourned the loss of a man who had loved them with all his heart.

Low voices made it into the small room and then Rounder came back in. There was a strange look on his face, so strange that Camille asked, “Rounder, what is it?”

“You’ll have to see for yourself.”

A figure came in from behind. The Bradford women’s mouths dropped and then in one voice they screamed, “Papa!”

Brutus Bradford stood there, alive in the flesh, his blond hair catching the light. His blue eyes were crinkled at the corners. “Daughters.”

“But Papa, you’re dead!” Brielle cried out.

“Obviously,” he drawled.

Danielle gulped. “Papa, we just finished the letter from Percy Willmington. He said that Arabette Grove has been destroyed. Burned to the ground.”

Brutus rushed over to his daughter. Lucien relinquished his hold and stood aside as Danielle clutched her arms around her father. More tears fell but they were of a different kind.

“I was dead, ma cherie.” He kissed her on both cheeks. “Dead without any of you. Now I’m alive again.”

“I don’t understand,” Brielle said as Matthias helped her to stand and led her to her father. Arielle was pushing at Caleb’s hold and she waddled over to him. Camille did the same and before long, all the Bradford sisters clung to their father as if they would never let him go. Brutus kissed each of their heads, his own eyes wet with tears.

The spouses all stayed back, knowing not to intrude on the moment.

Before long, they were all seated together and Brutus explained what happened. “I’m not sure how the fire started, daughters. I woke up with the room filled with smoke. I ran out of the room and helped the servants escape from the house. Thankfully, no one was hurt and everyone was safe.”

“But Percy said,” Danielle started to say.

Brutus grabbed her hand and squeezed. “I’d gone inside the burning building while the others stayed outside and tried to put out the fire. One of the servants was trapped in the upper rooms of the house. I thought nothing of going to save her.”

His eyes grew cloudy in remembrance. “I’d led her down the back of the house which hadn’t been affected by the flames. She ran out to safety. For a moment, I almost did, too. Then I thought of Arabette Grove, the house where I lived with the love of my life for many years. The house where we raised our children and lived in relative harmony. All around me, it was going up in flames. And for a moment, I wanted to die. Let the fire consume me and destroy me so I could be with your mother again.”

“Papa!” Camille’s exclamation only mirrored the heart of each of his daughters.

“We shouldn’t have left you,” Danielle said mournfully.

“Daughters, listen. I only wanted it for a moment. But then, I heard your mother’s voice in my ear. I hadn’t heard her voice in so long. I heard her whisper. ‘Go to them.’ When I heard that tiny whisper of sound, I knew I had to obey. But if I’d stayed alive, I’d be held hostage by Arabette Grove with all of its responsibilities. All of its memories and its duties. So, I ran out of that building and away from the crowd that had gathered at the front.”

“But what about the workers, the crops?”

“It’s been taken over by Armoise Orchard. Percy didn’t mention it because he believes your lives are here now. And they are.” Brutus stared pointedly at Arielle and Brielle. “He can have the plantation. I’ve given my solicitors strict instructions to sell the plantation to him on my behalf once they receive word from me. A letter that I sent last week before I arrived in Denver. I knew of the Pinkerton office and I found out where you were and came here.”

“Oh Papa, are you here to stay?” Arielle asked, her eyes wide with hope.

“Oui, daughter. Nothing could tear me away from you but death. May God grant it to be a long time before He decides I am needed to keep your mother company for eternity.”

 The Bradford women sighed in one breath, as if all their hearts were connected by a single thread of emotion. Then Lucien cleared his throat. “Sir, I’m—”

“Prince Akaba, yes. My wife spoke dubiously of you.” Brutus bowed and gave respect. “She didn’t like you for my daughter’s husband, but I think she knew there was nothing she could have done to stop you.”

The other men presented themselves to their father-in-law, and soon a lively discussion erupted among them. The Bradford women smiled. Arabette Grove had come to Colorado.

THE END

Author’s Note

If you’d like to read more novels regarding some of the African American struggles after the Civil War, feel free to browse any of my good friend, award-winning author Piper Huguley’s, books. A professor of United States Literature at Spelman, Mrs. Huguley’s inspirational books give the reader soul stirring plots, historical fact, and of course, romance flourishing through all obstacles.

Brutus Bradford and Roseline, though not a story of their own, were inspired by the writings of Vanessa Riley. Writing historical romance featuring interracial couples is her forte and I know you’ll enjoy them as much as I do.

I hope you enjoyed An Agent for Danielle. As I noted in the foreword, I used a classic understanding of the line of succession for my story, but those succession rules did not apply in real life.

The Kingdom of Dahomey did have the dark practice of sending slaves to European powers in the height of its day. A powerful country in and of itself, Dahomey was caught between a rock and a hard place. Either send slaves or be enslaved. Time does not permit me to go into all the intricacies involved, but I’ve linked a YouTube video that shows a documentary about the Kingdom of Dahomey and its relationships with European powers, particularly with France.

https://youtu.be/G93TsdYFgoY (The Dahomey Kingdom)

Much of the history of the Dahomey Kingdom has been passed through oral traditions. Regarding Akaba and Hangbe, they were twins, and each had a claim to throne. Akaba became the king in 1685 but according to tradition, died in 1716 during military combat. It is not known how he died, whether through sickness or via a war wound. Regardless, his sister Hangbe ruled as regent and continued the fight in her brother’s stead. The length of her rule is disputed.

In 1718, she supported the rule of her twin brother’s eldest son Agbo Sassa but her younger brother, Dosu, contested it. Eventually, Dosu, who was also called Agaja (a common name given to a brother born after a set of twins) did indeed become ruler of Dahomey against Hangbe’s wishes. Oral tradition stated that Hangbe’s only son was put to death so he and his descendants would not have claim to the throne. Be that as it may, Hangbe, according to different versions of the story, predicted that the Europeans would conquer Dahomey.

An element I touched on in An Agent for Danielle is the Mino warriors. These women were an all-female guard that protected the king. Think of the movie Black Panther, and the portrayal of T’Challa’s all-female guard.

According to European explorers, they called these women Amazons. These women were often virgins and were highly skilled in the area of combat. After all, they protected the king. In later years, as the wars between Dahomey and France would ensue, these women would be instrumental in holding back the encroaching European powers. However, eventually superior firepower would conquer them, and the kingdom would fall into the hands of the rule of France.

The Pinkerton Matchmaker Readers Group

Join the Pinkerton Matchmakers Readers Group: https://www.facebook.com/groups/PinkertonMatchmakerReaders/

About the Author

Parker J. Cole is an author, speaker, and radio show host with a fanatical obsession with the Lord, Star Trek, K-dramas, anime, romance books, old movies, speculative fiction, and knitting. An off and on recovering Mountain Dew and marshmallow addict, she writes to fill the void the sugar left behind.

Find out more and sign up for the mailing list at www.parkerjcole.com

Join Parker’s Bodacious Readers

Ordinary left a long time ago

To stay connected with me, join my reader’s group for sneak peeks, ARC requests, fun times and more. You can join by clicking on the link here.

Parker’s Bodacious Readers Facebook Group

Works by Parker J. Cole

Edgy Christian Romance Novels

The Sins of the Flesh Series:

Many Strange Women (Book 1)

The Other Man (Book 2)

Vengeful Vows (Book 3)

Sweet Inspirational Novels

Michigan Sweet Romance Series:

The Cure

Time to Say Goodbye

Contemporary Romance

Java Cupid Series

Java Blend

7 Mafia Brides for 7 Brothers

Shattered Illusion with Lynnette Roman
Axel’s Sunshine

Sweet Historical Romance Novels

Silverpines Series:

Wanted: Man of Honor

Wanted: Stonemason
Wanted: Fire Chief

Lantern in the Window Series:

Lantern of Hope

Lantern of Charity

The Proxy Bride Series

A Bride for Sterling

A Bride for Valentin

A Bride for Wen Hui

The Pinkerton Matchmaker Series

An Agent for Arielle

An Agent for Brielle

An Agent for Camille

An Agent for Danielle

Short Story Collection

Wish Upon a Strawberry Shortcake

Thriller Novel

Dark Cherub

Sci-fi Fantasy Romance Series

Crowns and Worlds

The House of Haddaway

Beyond the Veil

Entangled with a Cyclops (Coming soon)

Anthology Works

Birds of Passage Anthology: April and Mr. Grim

Realms of Our Own: Godforsaken

Beatitudes and Woes: The Door to Wishes

WRITING AS PARKER PAYNE

Ascent of the Gem Bearers Series

The Druid’s Spear (Book One) with Lee Thornton III

Hey reader, when you flip the page, Amazon is going to give you the opportunity to rate and review this book. How cool is that? If you take just a few minutes you could help someone else find their next favorite book.