The Princess's Bodyguard

by Beverly Barton

"I'm afraid you're confusing me even more. Once I'm in Golnar, you realize that you can't force me to leave with you, don't you?''

  He nodded. "Why do you think I'm not going to let you go without your giving me your word you'll return with me to Erembourg in one week."

  "And you'll really take me at my word?"

  "Call me a fool, but yeah."

  "Oh, Matt. . .er. . .Mr. O'Brien, thank you. But how will you ever explain to my father about letting me go?''

  "I'm not going to let you go," he said. "I'm going to Golnar with you."

  "But if my father thinks you've betrayed him, he'll send someone else after me. The only way this will work is if you allow me to escape, then follow me to Golnar."

  "Not a good plan," Matt told her. "I'm supposed to keep you safe. Anything could happen to you if I'm not there to protect you."

  Adele smiled. "Just listen to my plan, okay? You put me on the first flight to Golnar. I'll call Dia before I leave Vienna and have her chauffeur there to meet me the minute I arrive. Peneus acts as Dia's bodyguard wherever she goes on Golnar. I'll be perfectly safe until you arrive."

  She could tell by the expression on his face that he was wary, both of her and of her plan. Of course, she couldn't blame him, not after the way she'd been acting.

  "If you fly with me to Golnar and my father finds out, he won't believe that I escaped. He'll know you allowed me to go to Dia."

  Matt sighed. "I don't like it, but—"

  "Please, please. I swear I'll be safe until you arrive and I promise. . .I swear—" she laid her hand over her heart "—that I'll return to Orlantha with you in one week."

  Matt looked directly at Adele. "Okay, I know I'll prob­ably live to regret this, but we have a deal." He held out his hand.

  What choice did she have? She either accepted Matt O'Brien's offer or, if she didn't, she felt certain he'd take her straight back to Erembourg this morning. "We have a deal." She shook his big, strong hand. A flicker of some strange sensation tingled in her hand, up her arm and through her body. She stared at him and noticed he was studying her as intently as she was studying him.

  "I. . .uh. . .we really should get started for Vienna, shouldn't we?" She eased her hand from his.

  Matt cleared his throat. "Yeah." He turned the car west, straight back the way they'd come last night.

  "Why have you summoned me at this ungodly hour?'' Dedrick Vardan demanded as he stood in the private office of his coconspirator. The man held too much power over Dedrick at the present time, but that would change once the Royalists took over Orlantha and he became sole mon­arch. Dedrick simply had to bide his time and take orders from the man King Eduard had appointed the leader of the Royalists in Orlantha. If only his dear, distant cousin Eduard hadn't thought it necessary to assign this power-hungry bastard as Dedrick's watchdog.

  "We have a problem. A major problem."

  "And that would be?"

  "The princess tried to escape from the American private detective the king hired to bring her home."

  Dedrick shrugged. "So? Weren't our men able to pre­vent her escape?''

  "It seems they botched the job and were taken to the local jail. And now the princess is back in the American's custody. But I find it odd that he has not called to report the incident to the king."

  "Are our men still in jail?"

  "No, I was able to persuade the constable that they were working for King Leopold and that the man who fought them off had kidnapped the princess."

  "Good God, man, if the king hears about this, he'll know damn well that—"

  "The king will hear nothing. I swore the constable to secrecy and assured him that the princess is now safe and her kidnapper apprehended."

  "Then I'm to assume this private detective is en route with Adele, bringing her back to her grieving fiancé as we speak." Dedrick decided then and there that he would find many delightful ways to make dear, sweet Adele pay for scorning him. Once they were married, she would be at his mercy.

  "We should assume nothing! Until this hired bodyguard either telephones the king or shows up with the princess, we can't be sure that Her Highness hasn't told this man what she suspects."

  "Why should he listen to her? Her own father doesn't believe her wild accusations about my being a Royalist."

  "Do you forget how beautiful and charming the princess is? I dare say it wouldn't be too difficult for her to wrap this American around her little finger."

  "Damn!" Dedrick balled his hands into tight fists. "If he has been intimate with my fiancée, I shall have to—"

  "Shut up, you fool. I've found out quite a bit about this man, Matthew O'Brien. He is not just some ordinary pri­vate detective, nor is Dundee just a routine detective agency. You would do well to know your opponent. Mr. O'Brien could annihilate you in two seconds, with very little effort, so I suggest you forget about challenging him when he—if he brings Adele home."

  "You're intimidated by this Mr. O'Brien, aren't you?" Dedrick laughed. "My God, I never thought to see the day that anyone would—"

  Dedrick's laughter died instantly when the man's hand lashed across his face, giving Dedrick a resounding slap. He tensed and glowered at the man he reluctantly called comrade. If he didn't need this maniacal bully, he'd kill him here and now. He'd shoot the bastard in the heart. But perhaps a bullet couldn't kill such evil. Only a silver bullet perhaps? Or a stake through the heart?

  Dedrick wiped the blood from his cracked lip and grinned. "If you can't get Adele back to Erembourg in time for our wedding, then taking over Orlantha by peace­ful means may be out of the question."

  "I will see to it that the princess returns for her wed­ding."

  "And if you can't make that happen?"

  "You already know the answer to that question. Either the princess marries you or she must die."

  * * *

  Matt waved goodbye as Princess Adele boarded the first morning flight from Vienna to Golnar. He knew he was taking a big chance trusting a woman he didn't know, a woman who had tried every possible way to get away from him. He was going with his gut instincts, and in the past his instincts had seldom proven to be wrong. But just so she knew where they stood, he'd pulled her aside a few minutes ago and leveled with her.

  "Look, honey, you should know, up-front, that if when the time comes, you renege on your word, I'll find a way to get you off Golnar and back to Erembourg."

  She had smiled at him. "I know. I have no doubt that you're perfectly capable of forcing me to capitulate to your wishes."

  With Adele off to Golnar and his ticket for the next flight in five hours in his jacket pocket, he had a couple of phone calls to make in the meantime. First call—King Leopold. Second call—Ellen Denby. He dreaded his boss lady's wrath far more than the king's.

  He found a pay phone, used his phone card and punched in the private number King Leopold had given him. The phone rang twice and was promptly answered—but not by the king.

  "I'd like to speak to King Leopold," Matt said.

  "And whom may I say is telephoning?'' Lord Burhardt asked.

  "Matt O'Brien."

  "Yes, Mr. O'Brien. We've been expecting to hear from you. I hope you have good news about the princess."

  "I have good news and bad news," Matt said. "So how about putting the king on the phone so I can explain things to him."

  "That won't be necessary, I assure you. I am the king's trusted advisor and can relay any messages to him."

  "Yeah, I'm sure you can, but I want to speak directly with His Majesty. What I've got to say isn't something that should go through a third party. . .even a trusted ad­visor."

  Matt heard the slight gasp as if Lord Burhardt were shocked that a hired hand would dare to speak to him in such a manner. Too bad. The king might trust his chief advisor but Matt didn't. There was something not quite right about Burhardt.

  "I shall inform His Majesty that you wish to speak to him," Lord Burhardt said.

  While he waited, Matt thought about
what he was going to say. A dry run. A dress rehearsal for the act he was going to put on. Within minutes the king came on the line.

  "What's this about, Mr. O'Brien?" King Leopold asked. "Do you have my daughter? Are you en route to Orlantha?"

  "I found the princess in Vienna and we began our trip back to Erembourg when we got caught in a bad rainstorm, so we stopped at an inn about an hour's drive from the border."

  "Then you're calling to inform me that you are bringing the princess home this morning."

  "Not exactly," Matt said. "You see, during the night, the princess escaped."

  "What? How is that possible? I thought you were a highly trained professional. You must be an imbecile to have allowed her to get away from you."

  "I apologize, Your Majesty. Princess Adele slipped out the bathroom window and I didn't catch up with her until it was too late."

  "What do you mean it was too late?"

  "IYour daughter caught a flight from Vienna to Golnar. I missed her by only a few minutes. But I can assure you that I'll find her. I've booked the next flight to Golnar."

  "She's gone to Dia Constantine," the king said. "When you arrive in Golnar, rent a car and go directly to the Constantine villa. That's where you'll find her. And I'm afraid your bungling the job last night will make it more difficult for you. You see, Orlantha has no diplomatic ties with Golnar, so you'll have to kidnap Adele and find a way to get her off the island. Do you think you're capable of doing this job? I find myself wondering if I should call your agency and request another agent."

  "There's no need to do that." Talk fast, Matt, he told himself. Convince the king that you're the only man for the job. "I promise you that once I find the princess again, I won't let her out of my sight for a single minute until I bring her home to you."

  "Very well. Go to Golnar and contact me the minute you have Adele in your custody. If you fail again, I'll see to it that you—"

  "I won't fail. I promise you I'll bring the princess home."

  Half an hour later, after drinking a couple of cups of coffee and downing a Danish, Matt made his second phone call. He contacted the Dundee Agency in Atlanta and was put through to Ellen immediately.

  "Matt?"

  "Yeah, it's me."

  "I didn't expect to hear from you so soon. Have you already completed your assignment for King Leopold?''

  "Not exactly."

  "Uh-oh. I don't like what I hear in your voice. What's gone wrong?"

  "This assignment is turning out to be a little more com­plicated than I expected." Matt gave Ellen a blow-by-blow account of his brief odyssey with the princess. "I really think she's telling the truth. That's why I took matters into my own hands and decided to give her a week's reprieve."

  Ellen groaned. "You do realize that you've involved yourself in the politics of Orlantha—something that is none of your business and that goes against the policies of our agency."

  "Yeah, I know I'm not going strictly by the book on this one. But my gut instincts—"

  "Is she pretty?"

  "What?"

  Ellen repeated, "Is Princess Adele as pretty as her pic­tures?"

  "Prettier," Matt said. "But that has nothing to do with why I'm playing along with her for a week. One week. That's all. If her cohorts back in Orlantha can't come up with some evidence against the duke in the next seven days, I'll take Her Highness back to her father."

  "You didn't tell me where she went, where this old school friend of hers lives."

  "Some little island nation between Cyprus and Greece—''

  "Golnar?"

  "Yeah. How'd you know? I'd never heard of the place before."

  He sensed a slight hesitation in Ellen's response and heard an odd tone in her voice. "I visited Golnar once, years ago. It's a lovely place. Sandy beaches, ocean views, mountain villas. And several very quaint little towns. And if you stay the week, you'll probably witness one of their many festivals. I've heard that some are quite spectacular, similar to New Orleans's Mardi Gras."

  "You certainly know a lot about this place. How long did you stay in Golnar?"

  "Two weeks."

  The quick change in Ellen's tone of voice alerted Matt to her mood. Back to business! He knew better than to ask her more questions. She wasn't the type to share confidences about her personal life with her employees, not even the ones she considered to be friends.

  "I'll give you a daily update," Matt said.

  "Be sure you give King Leopold frequent updates, also. He's not going to like it when you keep putting off bring­ing his daughter home."

  "I think I'll persuade the princess to speak on my behalf to her father. Maybe she can convince him that he shouldn't have me drawn and quartered."

  Ellen chuckled. "Who's going to convince me that I shouldn't?"

  "Jeez, boss lady, give me a break, will you? My actions could save an entire nation."

  "Yeah, right. And the next thing you'll tell me is that you're going to marry Princess Adele to save her from having to go through with the wedding to the duke."

  A peculiar feeling hit Matt square in the gut. Marry the princess? No way! "Hey, just because I suggested she marry somebody else doesn't mean I volunteered for the job."

  "Why not? I think you'd look adorable in one of those fancy uniforms loaded down with medals. And just think, you could be prince for a day."

  "I'm hanging up now, Ms. Denby."

  "Be careful, Matt. If what the princess suspects is true, then her life could be in danger, and so could yours."

  "I'll do my job."

  "I never doubted it for a minute."

  Adele sipped on the bottled water she had requested from the flight attendant and tried to block out the chat­tering going on all around her. She'd never flown economy class before and she found it rather cramped and noisy.

  When Yves had met them at the airport with her pass­port, he'd lamented that he didn't have the funds to pay for a first-class ticket. She'd kissed him on the cheek and assured him that she would survive, just this once, in econ­omy class.

  Ever since she'd boarded the plane in Vienna, she'd been unable to get Matt O'Brien off her mind. He was so typically American. Uncultured, brash, opinionated. . .and fair-minded. If not for his willingness to trust her, she'd be standing before her father at the palace right now, lis­tening to a stern lecture. But Matt had given her seven days—only one short week—to prove her accusations against Dedrick. As soon as she arrived in Golnar, she would call Pippin and tell him the situation.

  But what if Pippin couldn't come up with the evidence by the end of the week? Adele's mind kept returning to one thought—a suggestion made by her American protec­tor. Marry someone else. If she married another man, albeit in name only, there was no way her father could force her to go through with the wedding to Dedrick. Yes, that's what she'd do if she had no other choice. She'd marry someone else. But who? Surely Theo and Dia could find her a suitable temporary husband.

  Chapter 5

  The Constantines' chauffeur met Adele at the airport. Be­fore departing the airplane, she'd donned the sunglasses and scarf she had purchased at the Vienna airport. If she didn't hide her identity, some tabloid reporter might spot her, and she simply couldn't deal with the paparazzi right now. She had enough problems without those sleazy news people chasing after her, asking questions, snapping photo­graphs. If they knew she was at the Constantine villa, Theo would have to hire a small army to keep them from his door. And that certainly wouldn't make Theo happy. She suspected Dia hadn't told her husband why she was com­ing for a visit, although if he'd been reading more than the business section of the newspapers lately, he might suspect she was on the run.

  The ride from the airport to the villa took thirty minutes, leading directly through the downtown area of Dareh, the capital city of Golnar. A mixture of modern and ancient, Dareh possessed the allure of an old-world town and the exotic charm of a Mediterranean seacoast city. Miles of sandy beaches as well as miles of rock cliff
s spanned the coast that half circled the capitol. Donkeys vied with small economy cars on the narrow back streets, and antiquated buses from the fifties chugged alongside taxis and motor­ists on the main thoroughfares. Catering to tourists and locals alike, modern banks and hotels stood alongside quaint restaurants and cafes as well as unique shops that sold everything from Persian rugs to Parisian-designed bi­kinis. In the northern edge of Dareh, which the limousine passed in its trek out of the inner city, was an open-air market, unchanged for hundreds of years. The voices of bargaining buyers and sellers rang out like a singular hum carried on the wind. When Adele rolled down the window to see the market more clearly, the mingled scents of game birds roasting over open fires, fresh garlic, rich spices and broad-bean stew assailed her senses.

  Most of the residents of Golnar spoke Greek, but with so many European, Russian and American tourists flocking more and more to the picturesque island, English was spo­ken fluently by many residents, as was Russian. The peo­ple of this small nation were mainly of Greek descent, with some Turkish blood flowing in their veins from genera­tions of intermarriage between the two peoples. But unlike Cyprus, the blend of cultures here had formed a single people not divided by religious or political differences. Greek Orthodox was the state religion and Greek the na­tional language, but many local customs had deep roots in both cultures. And if there was one thing the Golnarians loved, it was celebrations of any type, especially festivals.

  Outside the small town of Coeus, the Constantine villa perched at the top of the green hills that broke off abruptly to the rear and exposed the high, jagged banks of the cliffs, as if nature had sliced the hills in two with a giant blade and one half had dissolved into the Mediterranean below. The house itself overlooked the sea, with tiered balconies clinging to the hillside.

  The villa, once a monastery, had been purchased in the early part of the twentieth century by Theo's grandfather, and each generation had modernized the sprawling com­pound. Two stories of whitewashed stucco and native rock topped by a red tile roof, the ancient structure seemed to have risen fully formed for the earth. A long, narrow drive­way led along the edge of the cliff toward the main house that faced inland. By the time the chauffeur stopped the limousine and opened the back door, Dia came rushing through the enormous, two-story-high front doors, across the porch and through the arched entryway. On her heels were her daughter, the child's nanny and two galloping cocker spaniels.