I paced for a bit in the apartment, wondering what my next move should be. Would Konnor let me go now that I had done my part in helping him decipher this one clue? I could let him keep my email address and the link to Christian, I would give him the password and everything. But even then, I had a feeling that Hugh Konnor would need more persuasion. He’d always been stubborn around me, more than most of the palace bodyguards. It was a lot to handle.
He was a lot to handle.
I caught a view of him in the parlor, leaning back on the couch, one arm hooked around the back of his head. In that position, it was impossible not to notice the girth of that bicep, the length of his torso, the way his shirt pulled up to reveal a tiny sliver of taut skin.
I must have made a noise because he looked up from whatever he was reading on my tablet. My tablet!
I must have made a face because he looked unimpressed with me. “May I help you?”
I flopped into the nearest chair. “Have you heard anything?”
“No.” He redirected his attention back to my tablet.
“What are you reading?” I asked.
“The Driedish Times.”
It was a more liberal newspaper than the professional staff generally read, featuring more salacious articles about reality stars and gossip about my family than the other national papers. “Anything interesting?”
Konnor looked back up at me with a thoughtful expression. “There’s a bit of news about some of the upcoming celebrations.”
“The jubilee?” I asked. My grandmother’s anniversary of taking the throne was coming up in a few months.
“That, too.”
It was a strange response. “Is there another celebration I should be aware of?”
Konnor avoided my question by reading aloud from The Driedish Times: “Remains found in newly dedicated Jubilee Park believed to be those of fifteenth-century king.”
“Which one?”
He read silently, then answered, “Fredrik.”
I thought about that for a moment. My sister was the amateur historian in the family. I wasn’t sure whether fifteenth-century King Fredrik was one of the important ancestors or one of the ones who had been ineffectual or riddled with leprosy or died at birth. I had always classified the branches of the family tree into two categories: useful knowledge and not so much. When one was a princess, one had to be practical about such things. Some monarchs had universities named after them. Some were buried under car parks. One had to know which was which.
The thought of Theodora made my stomach ache a little. All this talk of her presumed-dead and supposedly dangerous ex-fiancé, yet I had not spoken with her in over nine months.
“Is she…doing well?” I asked.
“Who?”
“My sister. Princess Theodora. Your boss?”
“Yes.” Konnor’s eyes met mine. “You could be in Drieden by tonight, you know. Ask her in person.”
I pushed out of my chair. “No, thank you. I don’t intend to return to Drieden any time soon.”
“May I ask why?”
The question should have been impertinent. Palace security guards did not presume to ask why a member of the royal family was doing anything. They were dutiful, respectful of their boundaries. But I wasn’t a real princess anymore. And I had blown past so many boundaries with Hugh Konnor, I couldn’t object to his question.
But I didn’t have to answer it either.
“Sure,” I said, avoiding his eyes and crossing to the far wall, ostensibly to get a better look at the Ardesque painting in an overly large gilded frame.
“Why did you not return to Drieden after your husband’s death?”
“Why would I return?” I asked. “My grandmother disowned me. Most of my titles had been stripped. I had nothing to return to.”
“I think we both know that’s a lie.”
I spun on my heel and crossed my arms, ready to show him exactly how much disowned princesses enjoyed being called a liar when a tell-tale ding came from my tablet.
A new email.
“What does it say?” I crossed the room, hoping hard that the Scottish expert referred by Father Baldoni had provided us a firm explanation of what Christian’s tattoo might symbolize. If we had some direction to start looking for Christian, we could get that done, and then Konnor would leave me alone to live my life in peace.
“Fuck.” Konnor’s face darkened after he opened the message. I sat down next to him—practically in his lap, as the man wasn’t indicating that he was going to spin the tablet so that I could read whatever it was that had made him so mad.
Then I saw why Konnor had used profanity. The email wasn’t from a scholar of ancient Freemasonry in Scotland.
But it was from a Scot.
TO: [email protected]
FROM: [email protected]
Re: Re: Varenna Rental inquiry
Hello Caroline,
I would very much like to set up a meeting to discuss your future. You always struck me as the one with the most sense. The responsible one, I think Thea once called you. I have been hoping that you would help me clear up any remaining misunderstandings.
Further, we could discuss our mutual friends in London at The Times. Please respond within twenty-four hours to arrange a time and place.
Perhaps a location between Varenna and Rome?
Yours,
Steading
PS It does seem like you will not be returning to your home in Varenna. Pity, as the view from your veranda is really breathtaking.
“Caroline.” Hugh’s rough voice grabbed my attention. Then I realized he was vibrating. Or rather, that his pocket was vibrating. I had leaned into to him to read the newest electronic missive and now it appeared I was preventing him from answering his phone.
“Of course,” I murmured as I slid away on the couch, tablet in hand. Konnor rose and answered the phone in Driedish.
“What happened?”
The urgency in his voice made me look up, and I saw to see his posture completely change as he heard whatever news was being reported to him. His weight shifted forward, his shoulders drew back, like a gladiator entering the Coliseum.
He looked over his shoulder at me, and I saw something dark and focused in that gaze. Something that would have a lion in the ring running scared.
“I need a team of ten ASAP.” He rattled off the address of our location, then paused. He didn’t like what he heard. “Fuck protocol. Do you know who I have with me?”
I didn’t stop to think. I launched myself at Hugh Konnor. Or, more accurately, his cell phone. And even though he outweighed me by fifty pounds or more, the element of surprise worked in my favor and my flailing arm was able to knock his phone out of his hand, send it flying in the air.
I scrambled past him to get to the phone first, and perhaps he was slow because he was pondering the exact level of crazy I was exhibiting at that moment. But then he recovered. Caught my shirt just as I lunged to the floor, where the cell phone had landed. A rip of cotton filled the air and I felt a breeze on my back, but I was single-minded. A survivor.
And there was no fucking way Hugh Konnor was calling the palace guards on me. My hand wrapped around Hugh’s cell phone just as a wide palm wrapped around my middle. He was larger than me, sure. A professional trained in the art of bringing people down and busting psychopaths. Fine. Could he throw me over his shoulder and carry me all the way to Drieden without breaking a sweat? Quite possibly. But he was not getting this cursed cell phone from me without my permission.
A split second before he hauled me backward, I did the only thing I could think of. Literally, my last recourse. A line I knew Hugh Konnor would never cross.
I shoved his cell phone into my underwear.
Konnor tugged on me a little too hard, my socks slipped on the hundred-year-ol
d marble floor and down I went, like a piece of toppled Roman statuary. His arm was still around me and, somehow, he landed on top of me, one thick arm somewhat breaking my fall but potentially shattering his elbow.
Are you all right? I bit back the words. This was war. He took me on, took his chances; he had to suffer the consequences.
“Ufph!” was all he said, but his glare was intense. A lesser woman might have meekly tried to apologize right about now, but I was a former princess who had put up with a bully for far too long. There would no forthcoming “I’m sorrys.”
“Are you insane?” Konnor growled.
“You were calling guards here—”
He spoke right over me. “Your house in Varenna was firebombed an hour ago. I was calling them to get to Varenna. Last night there was an attempted break-in.”
I gasped and pushed against the concrete chest that was now pinning me down. “Elena and Signore—”
Konnor knew what I was asking. “They were out. No one was in the house.”
I relaxed only a little. “If something had happened to them…” I broke off.
“If something had happened to you!” He glared at me, furious at the idea. “This is why you need round-the-clock protection behind twenty-foot gates.”
“Or you could drive me to the airport and let me buy a ticket to Montevideo.” Once again, it was a reasonable counter-offer. “Leave me alone and we both get what we want.”
His eyebrows snatched together. “What I want? You think this is about what I want?”
Just then, I became fully conscious of the rest of my body. His body. His weight pinning me down. His thigh between mine. I struggled to take a deep breath. Probably because I had two-hundred and twenty pounds of solid muscle on top of my lungs. Sure, we’d go with that.
It had nothing to do with a mad crush I had on the man a decade ago. Or how this was pretty much exactly all of my teenage fantasies come to life. Hugh tearing my shirt off. Tackling me. Telling me exactly and explicitly what he wanted.
“What do you want?” I had to ask. “Do you want to catch Christian, or do you want me…to be safe,” I finished lamely. Had I imagined a flicker of something more in his eyes when I asked? Was it wishful thinking, or had he seemed to shift his weight subtly over my hip?
Is that a cell phone in my pants or are you glad to see me?
“Both,” he admitted roughly. “Now give me my phone back so I can do my job.”
“I don’t know where it is.” How I said that with a straight face I’ll never know.
He glared but didn’t move. I guess he thought I’d run if he let me up. Okay, he was right about that. A back part of my brain was already calculating whether I could outrun him to the servants’ elevator. The rational part of my brain had already concluded that no, I could not.
So I had to negotiate. “There’s only one way for you to get your phone back.”
“If you say I have to call it from a landline, I think it qualifies for some sort of workplace-harassment charge.”
I bit back a smile and not a little bit of mortification. God help me. If his damn phone starting vibrating right now, I’d never live this down. Suddenly, I felt helpless. Small. Under Hugh Konnor, in the face of his stubborn ferocity, what choices did I have? What kind of power could I wield?
Once again, I faced the stark truth that I was not my mother. I couldn’t flirt my way out of this. And I wasn’t my grandmother, with all the inherent authority of her birth. I couldn’t order Hugh to leave me alone.
There was one thing I hadn’t tried yet. My one last, humbling option.
“Please.” My voice was throaty. I closed my eyes so I wouldn’t have to face the pity that would surely be on his face, just inches from mine. “Please, Hugh. I just want to be left alone. It’s the only way to protect everyone.”
He shifted, gently pulled the arm out from beneath me and braced himself over me. I could still feel his looming warmth, but he was no longer pinning me down. For my own safety.
“Someone tried to break into your house. Then they tried torching the place. Christian’s email proves he is connected to those people.” He paused. I opened my eyes and met his straightforward gaze. “If you were me, would you let Princess Caroline go?”
You let me go before. I wanted to say the words, but of course I would never. I had a tattered sliver of pride left, if one ignored the fact that I had recently shoved my bodyguard’s cell phone into my underwear.
But he made an excellent point. The Hugh Konnor I knew would do the right thing. Always. Even if that meant giving up the search for a presumed criminal to personally escort me back to the royal palace.
“Fine,” I said, propping myself up on my elbows. “I’ll give you back your phone. Do you want to take it out or will you allow me some privacy in the bathroom?”
Konnor pulled up to his knees and I scrambled to my feet. He wasn’t looking my way when I tucked my tablet underneath my arm and headed quickly to the master suite.
Chapter Fifteen
Konnor gave me twenty minutes of “privacy” in the bathroom. I knew he’d be a gentleman like that.
And when he pounded on the door, I had expected that, too. “Caroline!” No more Your Highness. I smirked at myself in the mirror facing the deep, tiled bathtub where I was currently perched. “Are you…okay?”
I saw a low-battery icon flash on my tablet. Then the bell of an incoming message. I knew it wouldn’t take long to get a response and now I had only a few minutes to charge it before we needed to leave.
I flung open the door to the bathroom, promptly handed over Konnor’s phone and side-stepped around him. “I need to go and plug this in,” I said, as nonchalantly as I could, even as I mentally counted down the seconds…one…two…three…
“What did you do!?” I didn’t turn around. What was the point? I knew he’d follow up with, “It’s not working!”
“I flushed the memory card down the toilet,” I informed him crisply. “That way, no one can track us without us knowing.”
I hadn’t flushed the card down the toilet. I’m not a complete idiot. It was safely stashed in my bra—another place Hugh Konnor wouldn’t deign to root around in, stupid man that he was. But I knew he’d buy my story.
“Track us?” Konnor said, in a voice composed of ground-up nails and gravel. “Where do you think you’re going?”
“Us, Hugh. Collective pronoun. Come on now. Since you said you wouldn’t leave my side, we’ll just get my usefulness out of the way.”
I plugged my tablet into the charger and went to pack my few belongings back into my small bag. There was no reason to leave without my hairbrush, after all.
Konnor snatched the tablet and read what I had left open on the screen. I mentally counted down the seconds…one…two…three…
TO: [email protected]
FROM: [email protected]
Re: RE: Re: Varenna Rental inquiry
Christian,
This is all becoming quite tiresome. You and I both know that your proposition won’t fix anything with Thea. As for our friends at The Times, I don’t think they should be dragged into anything, to spare everyone embarrassment.
But as a gesture of nearly familial goodwill, I will meet with you. As it happens, I will be arriving at my mother’s Tuscan estate later this evening. As I just saw you in Varenna, I’m sure you’re not out of the country yet. Please let me know when I can expect you.
– C
PS If you had anything to do with the vandalism of my Varenna house, I will expect reimbursement. I love that veranda.
TO: [email protected]
FROM: [email protected]
Re: Re: RE: Re: Varenna Rental inquiry
Dearest Caroline,
I am so pleased to hear from you. I’ll take it as a yes to what I asked you in V
arenna. If we do this correctly, Thea will never have to know about how I convinced you to help me. And, if you agree, there will be ample funds to repair your little flat.
I will meet you at Felice’s estate later tonight—9 o’clock. Please ensure that we have a private meeting.
Eagerly yours,
Steading
Konnor’s dark eyes were bright with anger and I automatically took a step back. “I’m giving you what you want. What you’ve been searching for. He’ll meet us tonight, and you can nab him then and this will all be over. You’ll never have to spend another tortuous moment in my presence again.” He was still a seething knot of emotion, but he hadn’t blown up. He was listening. He was considering what I was saying.
“What am I supposed to do with you, then?” Konnor ground out the words between a clenched jaw. An image of his hard body pinning me down on cool marble jumped to mind.
I swallowed hard and mentally shoved the almost-dirty thought back into my overactive subconscious. “There’s the village a short distance away. After I meet with Christian, you can drop me off there. I’ll catch a bus, head to my next destination.” Wherever that was. “You get what you want, I get what I want. We’re all good.” I swiped my hands together. Pfft, pfft. “Done.”
Konnor looked at me for a long moment. Maybe he was weighing up his options. Maybe he was wishing he’d never turned me away when I was a nubile innocent, before I’d gone mad and cynical besides. Hey—a woman could fantasize about a man regretting his choices.
“What did he ask you in Varenna?”
I avoided his eyes, went to double-check the zip on my bag. “Exactly what I told you. He wants me to help him talk to Thea,” I lied.
“And your London friends? At The Times?”
Crap. I’d forgotten about Christian’s oblique references to Clémence and Cordelia. “Royal reporters,” I said. “Reputable ones. I think anything with Christian should be kept out of the papers, don’t you?”
The Royal Bodyguard Page 9