Secrets for Seducing a Royal Bodyguard

by Vanessa Kelly

  He eased her down until her feet touched the floor, the top of her head barely level with his chin. When she inhaled sharply, he glanced down at her feet and quietly cursed. They’d taken away her shoes and now she stood on the cold, dirt-packed floor in stocking-clad feet.

  When he slid an arm around her waist to lift her again, she slapped a hand on his chest to stop him.

  “It’s fine,” she whispered. “I can still walk.” A wry little smile shaped the corners of her pretty mouth. “Besides, my feet are so cold I can hardly feel a thing.”

  Slightly bemused by her stoic attitude, he raised his brows. She simply shrugged. Aden cast an assessing glance at the tunnel floor. Though dirty and assuredly cold, it seemed relatively free of debris. The exit was close, and they should make it with little trouble if no one had yet discovered the dead guard in the bushes.

  That, however, was a big if.

  Aden bent to whisper, “Stay behind me. If there’s any trouble, run for the woods. There’s a horse tied up in a small clearing about four hundred yards straight ahead. If that’s not possible, double back and hide down that corridor.” He jerked his head to indicate a shadowed, low-ceilinged tunnel branching off to the right. “Wait there until I come for you.”

  She stared at him, and that glazed look of terror seeped back into her eyes as he sensed panic freezing her limbs. Ignoring his growing sense of urgency, Aden took her face between his gloved hands, stooping until their gazes were level. Her breath sawed in and out in shallow pants, as he stared into her eyes until the pupils contracted and focused on him.

  “You are safe with me,” he said quietly. “I will not let anyone harm you again. Do you understand?”

  Her slender hands came up in a fluttering motion, touching his wrists. An elusive sense of connection shimmered in the air between them, slowing time to a crawl. Tension flowed from his limbs and evaporated in a gust of cool air blowing from the mouth of the tunnel. The outside world faded away and there was only her—her wounded, sapphire gaze, her slowly quieting breath, her beautiful, anxious face between his hands. Her needs became paramount, along with his need that she trust him. In that suspended moment, their mutual needs encompassed the entire world.

  Finally, she blinked several times, breaking the ephemeral thread of the connection. She dropped her hands from his wrists and nodded her understanding.

  “Good.” His heart throbbed with a strange, pulsing ache as he brushed a stray lock of hair from her brow. Clamping down hard on the unfamiliar sensation, Aden gathered himself and turned to face whatever awaited them outside the tunnels.

  Chapter Two

  Vivien had no intention of lapsing into hysterics, not after everything she’d endured over these last hours. But when the dangerous-looking man who was rescuing her—at least she thought he was rescuing her—led her past the guard who now had a knife protruding from under his ribs, she realized her good intentions might be for naught. Bubbles of hysteria rose in her throat and her legs turned the consistency of porridge.

  “Don’t look,” said her rescuer. He reached behind him and drew her to his side, gently turning her face until it rested against his chest. His big hand, encased in a black leather glove, cradled her skull and forced her to avert her gaze. She couldn’t have looked if she wanted to, and she certainly didn’t want to. All she could do was huddle into her would-be savior’s muscled body and absorb the warmth and security of his enveloping embrace.

  Against her expectations—and his, she suspected—it had proven amazingly easy to escape from the tunnels. Her rescuer had taken care of both guards—one lethally—and they had met no resistance so far. Now he was guiding her swiftly away from the gap in the rocks, heading into the sheltering cover of the forest. It was the blackest of nights, with clouds obscuring the moon and stars. Vivien could only make out murky shapes—the trees directly in front of her, and the man by her side. And he towered over her, a dominating presence even darker than the night. A disconcerting awareness of him prickled along her nerves, instinctively drawing her to him even as her mind sent out frantic warnings to mistrust everyone.

  When jolted out of her drug-induced sleep, she’d thought she’d finally been released from her nightmare. Then the cold and the stench of her dreary prison had assailed her, and the nightmare twisted back into reality. She’d almost bolted upright from her moldy-smelling pallet when she sensed someone in the room with her—not one of the guards stationed outside her door, although she couldn’t explain her certainty. No, this man was different. Silent, but with a powerful presence Vivien had somehow comprehended even in her dazed state. She had reacted by freezing, but when those big, leather-encased hands had slipped under her, panic had exploded in her chest. The rest of her body had followed suit and she’d fought as hard as she could. He’d subdued her with a ridiculous ease.

  Though not before she’d left a mark on his handsome face, high up on his cheekbone.

  Vivien winced, feeling guilty, and wondering why it should make a difference that he was handsome. He was certainly that, with a high, strong brow, a slashing jaw, and riveting eyes that almost defied description. Those raven-colored eyes had transfixed her, both when he’d held her captive on the pallet and then again when he’d been preparing her for the dangers that might await them at the cave’s entrance.

  Back in her cell, he’d terrified her. But in the tunnels, just the opposite had occurred. His penetrating gaze had sliced through her panic, triggering a strangely intimate moment, as if he’d seen deep inside her soul and captured everything there was to know about her. It should have sent her emotions skittering, but instead she’d sensed something akin to sanctuary, a safe harbor after years at sea. What she saw in his eyes had settled her frantic heartbeat and invested her with a fugitive confidence that kept her moving forward.

  She stumbled a bit over a tangle of roots, causing his grip to tighten on her elbow. Exhaling a frustrated breath and peering ahead into the smothering darkness, she mentally scolded herself for indulging in fanciful notions. She’d always had a heightened imagination, but now was hardly the time to indulge it. They were far from any kind of safe haven and she needed to concentrate on her feet as they moved stealthily over the thin cover of dead leaves on the forest floor. Thank God she had so little feeling—

  “Ouch!” She bit back a curse, hopping on one foot. Unfortunately, her feet were not as frozen as she’d thought.

  The man stopped and dipped his head to look down at her feet. “What’s wrong?” he asked in that deep rumble of his.

  Vivien clenched her teeth, leaning into his muscular frame as she balanced and rubbed her unhappy toes. “What do you think happened? I walked into a blasted great rock, which has no business being in the middle of a path. If there is such a thing as a path through this benighted forest, that is.”

  Her eyes must have adjusted to the dark because she could clearly see him shaking his head. Not that she could blame him since she did tend to fall into a snit when in stressful or trying circumstances. And getting kidnapped, drugged, and locked away in a dank, smelly cave struck her as very stressful circumstances, indeed.

  He reached for her, swinging her back into his arms. She thought about protesting—she should protest the fact that a stranger was handling her so intimately—but then decided against it. For a few moments back in her cell, the look on his face had frightened her half to death. She’d been desperate to get out of his arms. Much to her surprise, he seemed to understand her reaction. Since then, he’d treated her very gently, gaining her trust when her courage had failed and removing her swiftly and efficiently from captivity. She no doubt owed him her life, and she had every intention of properly thanking him once she was no longer in danger of succumbing to an epic bout of the vapors.

  Of course, things could have been so much worse. She hadn’t been raped or beaten or even manhandled too severely, at least not after the kidnappers had hauled her, kicking and screaming, out of her carriage in the middle of Mayfair. T
hat particular moment had been wretched, and she would never forget her mother’s terrified shrieks. The next awful moment had come when they’d forced the laudanum down her throat. But it hadn’t entirely knocked her out. Certainly not enough that she hadn’t felt one of the brutes pawing at her breasts. That memory brought the bile rushing up into her throat. Fortunately, one of her other abductors had lashed out at the man, telling him to keep his bloody hands to himself. Hours later, she’d tried to fight when they lifted her from the carriage and carried her into the caves, but they’d only laughed, hauling her along like a sack of coal before finally dropping her onto a disgusting pallet.

  Thankfully, after they’d dumped her in that cold cell they’d left her alone. After fruitlessly searching every inch of the room for a means of escape, she’d finally dozed off, too weary to fight the effects of the drug any longer. She’d only awakened when her rescuer—really, she must press him for his name—had entered the room and miraculously swept her away. Even now as they tromped through the forest—well, he was doing all the tromping—she could still hardly believe they’d managed the escape.

  The eerie hoot of an owl echoed through the night, and Vivien shivered. Strong arms closed tightly around her, cradling her into a rock-hard chest. She had to resist the urge to snuggle up, close her eyes, and go to sleep. It was a natural impulse because she felt entirely safe in this man’s arms, his strength and heat seeping through her velvet cloak to warm her. In his arms she felt almost cherished, which showed how thoroughly off-kilter her thinking had become under the strains of her ordeal.

  “Not much farther,” he said, clearly sensing her fatigue. Strange that after so short a time he was already attuned to her state of mind.

  She huffed out an impatient breath at such a demented notion. Her exhaustion and frayed nerves would be obvious to the average village idiot. Everything was finally catching up to her—not only the fear and the frustration, but the why of it, too.

  Who could possibly have wanted to kidnap her? An idea—more an image—had floated through her mind when she’d first drifted off to sleep in her cell, but one she rejected now. The man her drug-addled brain had seized on as a villain was a prince, but princes most decidedly did not go around kidnapping gently born ladies. Well, perhaps in fairy tales they might, but certainly not in true life. Besides, Prince Ivan was more likely to be mistaken for a frog than a dream come true, and Vivien was very certain she would not be kissing him any time in the near or distant future.

  “We’re here,” her companion said quietly a short time later.

  Vivien jerked in his arms, realizing she’d drifted off. She clutched at the heavy wool lapels of the odd coat he wore, one that seemed suited to a fisherman or laborer. Still, the fabric under her fingers felt dense and rich, woven from the finest of materials. Everything about the man was a mystery, and it was one that pricked her curiosity with a persistent needle.

  “Where?” she asked stupidly as he set her back on her feet. No matter how hard she tried, her brain didn’t seem to want to fully wake up.

  “In the clearing, where my horse is,” he explained patiently.

  “Oh, yes. I’d forgotten about the horse.”

  “You didn’t think we’d be walking back to London, did you?”

  The mild amusement in his tone had her shuffling her feet in the leaves. “Of course not. I simply forgot, that’s all.”

  “It’s perfectly understandable.” He set her against a tree and stepped away, heading across the small open expanse. She could see rather more clearly now, and watched him move away from her. And even though she could follow him with her gaze, a spurt of anxiety welled within her now that he no longer held her. She clamped down hard, concentrating instead on the interesting fact that such a big man could move with such stealth.

  Vivien heard the jingle of a horse’s bridle before she saw her rescuer lead the creature toward her. Despite its intimidating size, the massive, dark-coated animal followed behind him like a docile lap dog, gently puffing out its breath and stepping softly in his wake. When they reached the edge of the clearing, her rescuer let the reins drop to the ground, not bothering to tie the horse to tree or branch. He mounted with a swift, practiced smoothness. The beast danced a few steps, prompting Vivien to scuttle back, but the man easily mastered him.

  “Come, my lady. Up you go,” he said, reaching down a hand.

  Vivien stood rooted to the spot, wariness rushing back. “Didn’t you bring another horse? How can we ride together all the way back to London?”

  “We’re not riding. It’s too far and it would expose us to prying eyes. I have a carriage waiting for us in a nearby village. The sooner you mount, the sooner we’ll get there.”

  The astringent note in his voice automatically raised her hackles. “I can’t possibly ride on the same horse with you. It wouldn’t be proper.” She winced at how silly that sounded, given the circumstances. But the idea of being mounted in front of him on that great beast, with only her velvet cloak and two thin layers of delicate fabric between their bodies, made her feel much too exposed and vulnerable in a way she’d been fighting against since her kidnapping.

  “Since there’s no one here to see you, perhaps you could set decorum aside for now,” he responded dryly. “And if you think riding on a horse with me constitutes a scandal, imagine what the polite world would say if they discovered that you’d been held captive by a band of thugs.”

  Her cheeks flamed with heat. “Well, put that way, I do see your point.” She took a deep breath, mystified at her reluctance to ride with him. She’d let him hold her, lugging her for several hundred yards through the woods, so why did this particular activity make her squirm with discomfort? Somehow it seemed so very intimate, and she didn’t even know his name.

  Perhaps that was it.

  “You still haven’t told me your name. I should think I deserve to know that, at least.”

  His gloved hand tightened on the reins, and again the horse danced. He swiftly brought the beast under control. Silence fell again over the clearing, broken only by the nocturnal rustlings of some small creature.

  “Aden St. George,” he said a moment later, his reluctance to share apparent.

  Vivien brightened. “St. George? Would that be from the Earl of Thornbury’s family? My mother knows Lady Thornbury quite well.”

  She had the distinct impression her reply had him grinding his teeth.

  “I’m aware of that. And now that we’ve been properly introduced, would her ladyship please deign to get the hell up on my horse? We’re running out of time.”

  Though it was surely too dark for him to make out her expression, she scowled anyway. “There’s no need to get huffy. I’ve had to endure quite enough tonight without rude remarks from the man who is rescuing me.”

  He expelled a sigh. “Forgive me. I would simply like to proceed with that rescue, if you don’t mind. It won’t be long before you’re discovered missing, if it hasn’t happened already.”

  Vivien cast a nervous glance over her shoulder. She strained to see something, anything, in the encompassing darkness. “Oh, yes. Quite right, Mr. St. George. No time for lingering.” Wonderful. Now her nerves had set her to babbling. He must think her a perfect fool.

  He stretched out his arm, gesturing her forward. “I’ll pull you up in front of me. Step on my boot if you need to, but let me do the rest.”

  She swallowed hard and reached up, watched his hand swallow hers, and let out a startled squeak when he pulled her straight up into the air as if she were a cloth doll. Her feet scrambled for purchase on his boot, and she had a moment’s panic when she thought she was about to tumble back to the ground. But he swept her up in a dizzying rush, and a breathless moment later she sat before him, her bottom enclosed by his muscled thighs and his arm wrapped around her waist in a solid embrace.

  With her heart thumping wildly she clutched at the horse’s mane, her skittish response to him blending with her fears about the danger th
at might lurk ahead. As she took a deep breath, trying to calm her jangling nerves, he pressed his knees against the side of the horse, and they moved into the dark reaches of the forest.

  Chapter Three

  Tremors shivered through Lady Vivien’s slight frame as she held herself rigidly upright in front of him. It was a wonder she could still tolerate a man’s touch at all, much less the close embrace they shared on Ranger’s back. Though Aden had been surprised by her reluctance to mount up, her emotions were obviously seesawing from one extreme to the other. If only he could ascertain how badly she’d been hurt and the price her foul captors had extracted from her lovely body.

  Not as much as he’d originally thought, he hoped and suspected. She had panicked a few times, which was perfectly understandable. But she’d also reacted to the challenges thrown at her with a wit and vigor inconceivable in a woman who’d just been raped. In fact, she’d almost made him laugh when she snapped at him after stubbing her toe. But only a few minutes later she was back to acting like a skittish foal, reinforcing his concern that something truly ugly had happened to her in those caves.

  But how did one go about asking a gently bred lady such a question? Though Aden hadn’t a clue how to broach the topic, knowing how badly she’d been treated would help him gauge how much more she could take. So far, they’d been lucky, but he couldn’t depend on that luck continuing. They still had to get clear of these woods and make it safely to the hamlet where he’d stowed his coach and left his men waiting for them.

  Ranger stepped carefully along the trail, as quiet and precise as always. Aden had taken the horse on a swift reconnoiter at dusk, looking for obstacles and imprinting the way through the woods in his mind. Ranger needed little guidance but Aden kept a firm hand on the reins even as he attempted to keep an equally firm grip on his growing awareness of the woman in his arms.