Royal Elite: Leander

by Danielle Bourdon

  Leander exited the sedan at the same time as his father. Wynn, unable to tell by their neutral expressions whether the antidote had been administered successfully, nevertheless trotted carefully down the stairs, using one hand to hold the rail.

  Glancing up, Leander's whole demeanor changed. A smile crossed his face and he winked, two signs Wynn took to mean everything would be fine. She threw herself into his arms, using the last stair as a launching point. “You're back.”

  Leander caught her with ease, laughing up into her face. Arms around her middle, he twirled her in a slow circle and kissed her soundly. “I'm back.”

  “So? Don't keep me waiting. Did you get the antidote? Will it work?” Wynn peppered Leander's face with more kisses, the final one landing once more on his mouth.

  “Yes, we got the antidote, and yes, it'll work. The crisis is over.”

  “Thank god.” Wynn pressed her cheek against Leander's. She caught sight of Nathaniel watching them from near the rear of the sedan. Wynn's lips curled into a semblance of a smile, and she had to ask herself how she would have received the man if things had gone differently. Nathaniel's expression looked trite and momentarily focused on Leander's happiness.

  That was all Wynn could ask for besides a healthy husband-to-be. Sliding down Leander's body, her feet met the ground. Reluctantly, she unwound her arms from Leander's neck and rested her palms on his chest.

  “We going back to Arcata airport?” she asked.

  “Yes. Then we're heading to Latvala.” Leander glanced at his father, then up to Chey. With an arm around Wynn, he escorted her up the staircase and into the jet.

  “Welcome back. Glad everything went well,” Chey said.

  Leander slanted Chey a boyish kind of smile, one that usually melted Wynn's heart. “Thanks. Sander really stepped up.”

  “He does what he can, just like you.” Chey touched Leander on the back of the shoulder, then followed the pair inside.

  Nathaniel ascended the ramp last and took a seat near a window. His hands began their traditional rubbing, his gaze going distant on the scenery.

  Wynn took note of the rise of Nathaniel's old habit, then helped herself to Leander's lap when he sank down onto one of the sofas. “Now then. I want to hear everything. Don't leave out any details.”

  Leander laughed, arms draped loosely around Wynn's hips. “I think it began on a stormy night, when all the lights were out. My mom had her first cramp around ten or so, and labor progressed--”

  Wynn pinched Leander's chest, laughing along with Chey, who had taken a seat adjacent to theirs for take-off. Wynn said, “I didn't mean that far back. Jump ahead a few years, you know, to the complex we just left.”

  “Oh, oh,” Leander played it off, eyes lidded, a smug grin on his mouth. “Well. The real story starts when I had to pry my fiance off my chest so I could get to the complex in the first place...”

  . . .

  Instead of feeling threatened by the towering redwoods hulking around the homestead, swathed in darkness, Leander considered the trees to be sentinels, on the lookout for danger. In his younger years, he'd given the most impressive specimens names, sure they'd been put there to protect him. In his later years, the sense of protection and longevity lingered. While the women waited in the car, he scanned the grounds around his childhood home. Hands on his hips, he pulled in a slow breath filled with scents of redwood bark, forest flora and a sweeter tang of moss. Familiar scents, ones that brought rushes of memory to the fore. It was the same no matter how frequently or infrequently he visited.

  Finally, his attention landed on Nathaniel, who also scanned the area while he fished keys from his pocket. With just a porch light shining and a few stray landscape lights flickering in the shrubs, Leander had a hard time deciphering what his father was thinking.

  Missing the complex and Trent Young's offer, probably.

  “I guess this is it,” Nathaniel said, looking back at Leander. The keys rattled in his hand.

  “Yeah, I guess so.” Leander, never good at goodbyes, was especially poor at this one. He sliced his hands into his pockets and shrugged his shoulders toward his ears, a gesture that was not dismissive but rather uncertain.

  “I'm very glad I got to meet Wynn, and that she interceded on your behalf. You really should return phone calls sometimes.”

  “I'll think about it,” Leander retorted, then realized when his father's gaze met the ground that his reply was too harsh for the situation. He didn't know whether he was glad that Nathaniel met Wynn or not, or whether Wynn's life would be enriched in any way by having met his dad. Nevertheless, he said, “I'm sure Wynn won't forget meeting you.”

  Everything kept coming out biting and trite. Leander chewed on the inside of his lower lip. He could just make out the wry expression crossing his father's face from the short distance that separated them.

  “I'm sure she won't. Anyway, good luck in a few days and with your future. If you experience any strange symptoms, get in touch with me immediately.” Nathaniel lifted a hand, turned toward the drive, and headed for the house.

  “You too, and I will.” Leander opened his mouth to say more, to say something that would leave them on better terms than this. Their terms had never been better than this, however, except when he'd been much smaller, too young to know what his father did out in the bunker like buildings in the back.

  Splitting off, he walked toward the waiting rental car, the scissoring shadows of his legs cutting through the headlight beams when someone inside turned them on. Lifting a hand to block some of the glare, he angled to the driver's side and slid into the seat. He stabbed a mock scowl at Wynn in the rearview mirror, knowing well who'd jumped the proverbial gun and fiddled with the headlamps. A moment later, Wynn wrapped her arms around his neck from behind and pressed three kisses just below his ear.

  “How'd it go?” Wynn whispered.

  “It went.” Leander wasn't sure what else to say.

  “That's informative.”

  “It ended like it always does—well. We weren't shouting at each other, I guess that's progress.” Leander skimmed a look to Chey, also in the back seat next to Wynn. She had her head tilted back, eyes closed. Not asleep, but apparently resting.

  Starting the engine, Leander turned the car around, anxious to get out of surveillance range.

  Anxious, too, to put some distance between himself and the house.

  . . .

  Wynn's sense of peace lasted exactly two-hours and thirty-eight minutes, right up until Leander informed her of the 'new' plans. Hands on her hips, voice low to keep from waking Chey asleep in the bedroom, Wynn glared at Leander as if that along with her virulent protests would change his mind. The hum of the jet helped, she hoped, to keep the argument from reaching others on the plane.

  “For the third time, Leander, no. I hardly ever outright say that to you, because it feels disrespectful to a man more than capable of making his own choices. But I'm saying it now, and I mean it. No.”

  Sprawled negligently in one of the luxurious chairs, elbow draped over the arm rest, Leander studied her in silence for several seconds. Then he said, “It's disrespectful, yes, and you also don't say it because you know I'll do what I need to no matter what. And I need to be there. Either we divert the flight from Latvala to Serbia, or I'll have to spend all that extra time flying out again after I've seen you home. We're in the air. It's faster just to drop me off and get you two back to the castle. I'll make sure the others get out of Serbia safely and we'll all be home tomorrow. The wedding is still three days away, plenty of time.”

  It galled Wynn to know he was right. Leander was not the type of man one kept on a leash. Any kind of leash, long or short. He came and went at his whim, never asking permission and also not informing her of the whole truth when he did leave. At least not until now.

  “I understand you want to make sure they're safe. But Sander and Mattias and Ahsan are capable men. They'll figure it out. I mean, other than making sure there are
n't any more surprises on Ahsan's jet, and dropping Kristo at Weithan Isle, there's nothing left to do but come home anyway.”

  “If you were so sure there's no threat left, you wouldn't be so worried about me going,” Leander said in a quiet voice.

  Wynn realized he was right. Partly. “Of course I'm worried. You almost just died. Twice if you count the threat on Ahsan's plane. I want you home where I can see and feel you.” She threw a hand wide in exasperation, then paced through the middle of the sectionals and chairs. The shades over the oval windows had been shuttered against the dark night sky, leaving low lit lamps and running lights to illuminate the interior of the plane.

  “And I'll be there—as soon as I know the others are safely out of Serbia.”

  “Why are you being so truculent? What's wrong with giving me what I want this time? Is it your dad? Are you still upset over seeing him again?” Wynn knew it was more than the virus situation; Leander had been closed off and moody ever since boarding the jet.

  Leander pinched the bridge of his nose. A telling gesture. “I don't want to talk about my dad right now.”

  “Well, I don't want you to put your life at risk again so soon,” Wynn countered.

  “I'm not putting my life at risk by providing extra security, an extra set of eyes and senses. Extra input. This is what they pay me for.”

  “You don't need to work for them anymore, do you? You've put more than enough away—or at least that's what I assume, since you've always got money when you need it.” The truth of it was, Wynn had no idea what kind of money Leander made 'working' for the Ahtissari brothers. It was one of the topics Leander didn't discuss. He paid for everything when they went out, bought her clothes and jewelry and things for the cottage, but otherwise never mentioned a paycheck.

  “No, I don't need it. Do you know why? It may not seem so, but my father is a very rich man. He set up trusts for me long ago that pay handsomely once a month. Blood money, Wynn, from the diseases and viruses and crap he works on, things that obliterate entire villages and populations. I can't bring myself to touch any of it, except on certain occasions, so I started doing what I do because I'm good at it and because I'm an asset to the kingdom of Latvala. I'm needed here, wanted here, and you know me well enough to know that I can't sit around and do nothing with my life. I'm not that man.” Thrusting up out of the chair, he stalked to the kitchenette and snagged a bottle of water out of the fridge. Twisting off the cap, he tilted the bottle up and drank half before he was done. He added, “Before I met Mattias and Sander, I did the same kind of thing for other affluent families, gaining expertise and experience. 'Jobs' that paid very, very well. I socked away all that cash so that I wouldn't have to use money from the trust unless I thought it would benefit saving someone else. That's all I ever use it for. Somehow it seems right, like balancing fate.”

  Wynn understood a lot more about Leander in that moment than she ever had. His secrets were not easy ones to tell and, judging by his restlessness and agitation, took more of a toll than he let on. She imagined it was easy for him to put thoughts of his father and his life aside when he was busy and working—all the more reason for him to seek out danger. It troubled her that they'd been together more than a year now and she was only just discovering these unknown traits. Too many secrets, Wynn thought, did not a healthy relationship make. Yet until now, when danger presented itself, their relationship had not undergone hardship. For all the things she hadn't known about Leander, those details didn't make a difference until it reached a critical, personal point. Leander put her first above all else barring his infrequent, unexplained trips abroad. He was kind, nurturing, funny, mildly sarcastic and above all, made no bones about how much he adored her.

  “So how pissed are you?” Standing with his back to her, holding the capped bottle at waist level, Leander flipped open a shade and stared out one of the oval windows to the darkness outside.

  Wynn approached on silent feet. Directly behind him, she took in all the things she loved about her fiance: his taller height, the neck length brown hair she loved to run her fingers through, his broad shoulders and lean waist. The sense that no matter what adversary came their way, he would—and could—slay them all.

  “I'm not pissed. I'm just madly in love with you. I care, I fret, I worry that one day, you won't come home. If I was off in dangerous situations, I'd like to think that you'd worry if I would come home, too.” Wynn set her fingers between Leander's shoulder blades and drew a light line down to the base of his spine. Beneath her fingertips, he shuddered. “And I was thinking that there were quite a few things I didn't know about you. Wondering, also, how many more there might be.”

  He set the bottle on a small end table and turned around, staring down his cheeks into her eyes. “I think that's pretty much it, to be honest. My dad was the one thing I don't like to talk about with anyone. Not even Mattias knows all the details. Well, he didn't.”

  “Is that why there were so many people who couldn't decide if your dad was a banking mogul, entertainment deity or a secret member of a royal family?” Wynn had heard all those variations and more. She crooned a quiet sound when he cupped each side of her face in his calloused palms.

  “I spread the disinformation as far and wide as I could. As far as I'm concerned, people can keep wondering just how I'm 'connected' to the upper echelon of society. Mattias and Sander and my other brothers know now, and I won't hold the truth back from them any longer. Everyone else can bite me.” He bent his head to kiss her, a warm press of lips that became a hot press of his tongue, seeking invasion.

  Wynn let him in. She opened under his gentle but insistent assault, clinging to his hips with more force than he held onto her face. The reprieve was over too soon.

  Breaking away, leaving just an inch between their mouths, Leander searched her eyes. “I'll stay.”

  Wynn's lips trembled with a smile at his offer. It occurred to her then that trying to tame Leander was somewhat like trying to tame a wild lion. Watching him pace the cage, desperate to be free to do what he did best, would likely kill Wynn. Slowly. Leander no more belonged in a cage than did any wild animal, repressed and subdued, half the man he wanted to be. He needed challenge and risk and places to expend his considerable skill. Not just for money, but because it was part of his blood.

  “Tell the pilots to head to Serbia,” she finally said, coming to terms and to a certain peace within herself about the decision.

  “What made you change your mind?” He cocked his head and brushed another kiss over her mouth.

  “Because if there's anything I've discovered in all this, it's that this is what makes you, you. Leander Morgan wasn't built to be contained. He was built to use his talents and skill and I'm sorry I didn't realize it sooner.”

  “You didn't know, exactly,” he reminded her.

  Wynn smiled, returning another kiss. “No, but I do now, and it changes everything. I'll worry and fret and all the things I do, because that's part of what makes me, me.”

  “A very tempting you, I might add,” he said with a glance at the closed bedroom door, then to the upward seating where the stewardess sat watching a movie with headphones on until needed.

  “We are not, I repeat not having sex in the kitchenette.”

  “Aren't we?” The wild smile he turned back to her was full of wicked mischief.

  Chapter Fifteen

  “I have no idea where you're taking me, Chey, but it better be good,” Wynn said. She reached up to touch the blindfold covering her eyes. A day had passed since dropping Leander off in Serbia and arriving home to Latvala. One day past without information or a phone call from Leander, and one day closer to their wedding. Wynn had spent the time staying busy while Chey caught up to duties at the castle, and now, mid-afternoon with the sun shining high overhead and sea spray sprinkling her cheek, Wynn had no idea where she was going. She knew they were on a boat crossing the bay from Pallan Island to the mainland and that was all.

  Lunch, perhap
s. Or a second surprise bridal shower. Chey had already thrown one.

  “You'll just have to wait and see,” Chey said with a cocky flare to her voice.

  “Do you know how much stuff I have left to do? The entire church has to be decorated before day after tomorrow!” Wynn, thanks to her deviation in schedule with the trip out west, was woefully behind with the wedding plans.

  “Yes, yes, yes. I've heard it a hundred times since we boarded the boat! I told you I'd gather the girls tomorrow and we'll help,” Chey said. “We're almost to the docks.”

  Transferring carefully from the boat to the docks, and then into a limousine, Wynn grumped and groaned but was secretly thrilled at the unknown surprise. She needed it to keep from thinking about Leander non-stop. She knew Chey was feeling the same pressure thanks to Sander's continued absence.

  Sometime between now and midnight, this very day, their men should be home. Should be. Wynn was counting every second.

  Although Wynn couldn't see past the blindfold, she knew what the docks looked like, as well as the landscape of the mainland. Latvala was a country of long winters, broad vistas and beautiful, rugged terrain. Mountains ranged through the latter half of the nation, followed by hinterlands. Dotted by quaint villages and rocky outcroppings, the coastal region was one of Wynn's favorite places in all of Latvala. She pictured the imagery in her mind's eye, attempting to figure out their destination.

  The limousine sped away from the docks, winding through a city—though Wynn couldn't be sure which one, exactly, since many had docks—before hitting a straightaway and picking up speed.

  “Know where we are yet?” Chey asked.

  “No. How am I supposed to know that? Wait! A shopping trip! We're going to buy yet another lacy-stringy-scrap of something that barely covers anything because the fifty I got for my bridal shower weren't enough.” Wynn wouldn't be opposed to a shopping excursion if she didn't have so much to do for the wedding.