by Gwen Hayes
He went under for a while. He could hold his breath for a long time, after all. When he shot up right next her, her eyes widened in shock. She was leaning still, as she’d been trying to see where he’d been. He waggled his brows.
The shock changed as she realized her precarious position. “You wouldn’t.”
“Is that a dare?”
“Harmon?”
He was having…fun. A strange feeling. One he almost didn’t recognize.
He went back under, coming up randomly. As he continued to torture her, he thought of all the times she’d made his life hell. All the times she’d slipped her detail. The barely-there outfits she’d dared him to comment on. The night she’d met up with Lord Balton and made sure Harmon knew they were going back to his room.
And when he came up for air, he remembered how she felt pressed against him in that sleeping bag. How cold his shower had been this morning after a night of not sleeping next to her in that damned bed.
He reached for her arm and she winked at him in that second before he pulled her into the water with him.
The lake was cold. At least that’s what he thought she was saying when she emerged from below the surface sputtering and possibly calling him names. It was hard to understand if there were actual words or if she was just incoherent.
And then the words started.
He had her by the waist, securing her to him as she went on and on about what she thought of him. The tirade went on for a full minute, and then she looped her arms around his neck and started laughing. “It is rather refreshing, Duke Carlysle. You were right.”
Her legs came around his waist naturally, as if she knew he would keep her safe even if it was his fault she was in the water. And he would.
Lord she was pretty.
He pushed a lock of wet hair off her face. Resisted the urge to count the freckles across her nose. He swallowed hard.
“I’m glad you find the water to your taste, Princess. It’s my understanding the eels prefer this temperature also.”
Her eyes got big. “Eels?” She tightened her grip on him, all of her pressing deeper into him. “Are you messing with me?”
“Maybe. Maybe not.” He liked her right where she was, so he had no intention of making her relax her hold just yet.
“Harmon. Are you?”
He smiled.
“You look positively evil when you smile.” She pulled something off him. “And you have seaweed in your hair.”
He should get her back on the boat. Get her back to shore. This was…there was no excuse. He could probably have explained away the picnic to himself if he tried hard enough. He wanted to keep up appearances. Arranging a romantic getaway certainly did that. But this…this was something else. Something he couldn’t explain. This desire to hold her. To tease her.
Well, he could explain it, but then he’d have to fire himself. The Royal Palace Guard did not flirt with the royals. His family would always be close to them, but this was too far. Too personal. His hand slid down, cupped her ass.
Way too personal.
She was a water nymph in his arms. Enchanting. Provoking.
She angled her hips, gasping a little when she realized that he was hard despite the water temperature.
Get her back on the boat, man.
Her fingers delved into the hair on his neck. Her touch amazed him. His little princess, so good at riling him to near insanity with her attitude, could soothe him with just a touch. A woman’s touch.
He’d tried not to think of her as a woman. For years. But she was—she possessed all the secrets, all the wiles, all the mysteries. Because even as her touch soothed him, it fed a fire inside him. To possess her. To take her.
To need her.
And that’s where it hurt the most. If he allowed himself to need her he was done for.
She sensed him trying to shut down again. Surprisingly, instead of fighting it, instead of pouting or trying to rile him up again, her eyes softened.
He didn’t have a defense for that.
“You’re going to be okay,” she said, as if she were deciding something.
“Princess?” He didn’t even know what to ask because he was just so lost at that moment.
She always had a spark of mischievous in her eyes, but this new look stirred him even more. It was earthy, almost nurturing, and she looked in his eyes like she was looking into a crystal ball. “I worry about you. You always seem so dour. I worried that you would be even worse when I left, that without someone to remind you, you’d forget you were a human being. But you’re going to be okay, I think.” She brushed a lock of wet hair off his forehead. “You’re not a robot on the inside. Not yet. Beneath all your programming, you’re still a flesh and blood man.” She nodded and he really had no idea what was happening. “Promise me you’ll try to remember on your own once in a while. Maybe spend more time with Matthew? When I’m gone?”
When she was gone?
“Where are you going?”
She smiled. It wasn’t a happy smile. It was one that seemed ageless and wise. “I don’t know yet. I imagine wherever my husband tells me he lives.”
Fuck.
He hadn’t let himself think about her moving away. It was hard enough to imagine her belonging to someone else—but she was right. She might not live in Sivartania. She would no longer be his to watch over. To protect.
Everything inside him rebelled at the thought. How had he never thought this through? He’d lived his whole life knowing his role in life was to protect the royals. The three that were left became his the day his father died. How had he managed to delude himself into thinking that it was forever? The king and Prince Matthew would always live in the palace. But Merriam…if she married a royal from another country, she would leave. How could he protect her? How would he ever trust another palace guard to take that duty?
She kissed his temple. “I’m pruning up. We should get back.”
As his heart pruned up beneath his ribs, he wished nothing more than to be the android she so often taunted him about.
There was no way he was going to be okay.
He tightened his grip and she responded with brows up.
“Perhaps I should go with you. Wherever you go. Jenkins can take point on the castle. I’ll head your security detail.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” she answered. And she was right, but he didn’t like that she said it first.
“Why is that?”
There was that sad smile again. “My life is going to change. I need to accept it. I need to… give myself to it.”
To him. The new man. The man the king would decide was her next chapter.
Not him. Harmon. Who would die for her. Who would sacrifice anything for her, for her future children.
“Your lips are turning blue. Let’s get you back to shore.”
If he could, he’d throw his heart overboard right here. He didn’t want it anymore. It was going to cause him nothing but pain.
CHAPTER TEN
Good morning, Campers!
Softball games start today. Let’s cheer our teams on.
As a reminder, skinny dipping is against camp rules. If we catch you, we steal your clothes and hang them on the flag post. You’ll notice a pair of boxers up there this morning.
Go for a walk in the forest, they said. It will be fun, they said…
Merriam’s heart skipped more than one beat when she and her three friends heard the rustling on the trail during their girls only hike.
Something else was in this woods with them.
“Did you hear that?” Lucy asked.
Merriam had indeed.
Maybe it was a raccoon. Or squirrel. Or a bear. A big angry bear.
Or a terrorist finally getting his chance at a royal alone with no protection.
Harmon was going to kill her. If she lived through the bear attack.
She listened very carefully to the quiet. The breeze shook some branches overhead, a nearby creek gu
rgled happily, birds in the distance trilled to each other. Probably laughing at the four women obviously out of their element.
Lucy, her first and best friend from the trip was about five-and-a-half feet of blonde southern belle. Every word she said, no matter how foul, sounded like it had been dipped in sugar. She worked in an office in Atlanta and had come to camp three times. But that was her really her only outdoor experience.
Hannah was a bookkeeper from New York City. But she ran in the park every day. Again, not a lot of bears.
And Monica. Sweet, adorkable Monica taught kindergarten in a small town in Wisconsin. She might have been more useful on a normal day. But today, the problem was that all four of them were a little drunk.
Merriam had to beg, literally beg, to come on this hike without Harmon. Turned out the begging had fallen on deaf ears, but when she got down on her knees in front of him to make her point, he’d gotten so uncomfortable he’d relented. Good to know he was actually so afraid of her giving him head that he’d rather she run around the woods unprotected from a serial killer.
Or a raccoon.
And now maybe that was the last memory she’d have of him before she was torn limb from limb by a wild, hungry beast.
Lucy pulled out a canister of pepper spray. Oh, thank goodness. At least one of them had been thinking before they left. None of them were thinking now.
She stepped behind her new friend, who was having trouble figuring out the safety cap on the spray. She was a little afraid Lucy was going to remove said safety cap while simultaneously depressing the button, and she wasn’t really interested in seasoning herself in pepper for whatever beast was about to eat her.
And Harmon thought she had no self-preservation skills.
“Shh,” Hannah said.
“Nobody’s talking,” Lucy whispered. “Well they weren’t. I’m talking now.”
“Shh,” Hannah repeated.
Hannah was the most athletic of the four of them, so Merriam knew what was likely to happen was Hannah would get away clean while she, Lucy, and Monica would scramble hopelessly. Whomever was the slowest of the three would be bear chow. It was possible that Hannah would push one of them down first. She wasn’t the nicest girl. That left two.
The rustling sound happened again.
Shit. She didn’t want to die. It wasn’t fair that she would die before seeing Harmon naked. Which probably wouldn’t happen even if she lived to ninety-four, but she wasn’t ready for the afterworld yet. She had unfinished business in this one. Six plus feet of well-muscled, unfinished business.
Monica started giggling.
“Shh,” Hannah said. Again. And not very quietly if Merriam were going to comment.
“I can’t help it,” Monica whisper-shouted. “I giggle when I’m nervous. Or sad. Or angry.”
“We need a plan.” This from Lucy. Whose grand plan this hike had been to begin with.
Having a Girls’ Night Out was sort of impractical when you were at a dating event to meet men, but Lucy still wanted to come away from this week with girlfriends, so she’d proposed a girls-only hike. A hike that Harmon objected to because of course he did. It sounded like fun, so clearly he had to have a problem with it.
They’d been prickly towards each other since the lake yesterday. Things were awkward between them. Well, more awkward. She wasn’t just getting under his skin like she used to—and fine skin it was. But it wasn’t as simple as that anymore. He was starting to let her in. Let her see him, the real him. But at the same time, he didn’t want her to, and she needed to remember that. Because she was afraid he was seeing more of her than she’d intended to show him.
It was the forced proximity. And the ticking time bomb of her impending nuptials. And their chemistry. God. That chemistry could take out an entire country.
Hers if she let it.
The ground to the left of her moved and a squirrel darted out and in front of them, eliciting squeals and little screams as he disappeared on the other side of the path.
Not a serial killer. Good to know.
And then Monica lost it. She wasn’t joking about the giggles. But the release of tension found Merriam on the edge of reason, too, and she was no match for it. Merriam snorted, but then couldn’t hold the laugh in either, and Hannah and Lucy stared at the two of them like they were crazy for about 2.2 seconds, and then they were all lost to the giggle.
“Stop,” Hannah pleaded. “I think I’m going to pee my pants.”
“I can’t,” Monica wheezed.
It was the damn cherry bombs. Hannah had stolen the cherries from the bar the staff was setting up in the boathouse. A whole container full of cherries soaking in vodka. Merriam knew after eating three she was going to regret them. And since it was too late to take them back by that point, she just kept going. They all had.
Lucy plopped down on the trail and fished out her canteen. That had better be water. They didn’t need any more booze. “Maryanne, honey, the girls and I think it’s time for an intervention.”
She looked at Hannah. Who nodded. Then Monica. Who shrugged.
“An intervention from what?” They hardly even knew her.
“Your boyfriend.”
Oh, him.
“What’s wrong with Harmon?”
“Nothing,” answered Monica and Lucy simultaneously.
“Don’t you think it’s a little weird how fast you guys hooked up?” Hannah asked. “Shouldn’t you have tried to get to know the other guys too? I mean, you didn’t give anyone else a chance.”
Monica sighed. “I think it’s romantic. I don’t really think you need an intervention. I just came on this hike to get away from Alec McDouchecanoe.”
Merriam knew exactly whom she was referring to. The guy thought he was a real catch, so he reminded people of his awesomeness in every conversation.
Merriam sat down next to Lucy. Even though she was in the hot seat, this was fun for her. She had girlfriends in Europe, but none that she’d ever been able to talk to Harmon about. But these girls didn’t know about Sivartania. And the Harmon at camp was quite a bit different from the Duke of Carlysle. “Harmon is…” Sexy. Obtuse. Hot. Annoying. “Harmon is really the only guy here that does it for me, you know?”
And the only man who she couldn’t have. Ever. Not really.
“But don’t you think that maybe part of that is because you haven’t even looked at the other guys?” Lucy asked. “I mean, I know I pushed you into his path the first night, but I didn’t think you’d forsake all others. I just don’t want you to limit yourself to one guy and then get home and realize you pinned your hopes on a fling. Because that’s what this week is about. Flings. Romance and flirting and not taking life so seriously.”
The idea that Harmon would allow her to romance and flirt any of the men here was ludicrous, but Lucy did have a point about pinning her hopes on something that could never be. That was…depressing. “Somebody pass me the cherries.”
Ten minutes, five cherries, and four snort-wheeze-laugh combinations later, their little huddle of laughing women was interrupted again.
“Ladies.” The disembodied voice, too deep and too husky to be one of them, made her drop her next cherry. It took a second for her to register that she’d really heard it, and she popped her head up to find five men staring at them like they were lunatics.
Five glorious, hunky men who were not wrong.
Four smiling, happy dudes and one glowering one.
Guess which one is mine?
She smiled at him and he shook his head, but walked right up to her, pulled her up, and kissed her hard on the mouth.
“You taste like cough syrup and hair spray,” he said. And then he dipped his head to kiss her again.
She knew it was for show, but that didn’t stop her body from responding. Her arms from reaching around his neck. Her body from raising on her tiptoes so she could fit to him better in the places that made her see stars behind her eyelids.
“What are you doing
here?” she asked.
One of the guys answered for him. “Harmon here organized the troops for an old-fashioned panty raid.”
“Oh really?” Harmon was good at organizing troops. But she had a hard time with the idea that he was going after panties.
“Jake wanted to know where Monica had gone,” Harmon whispered in her ear, causing little quakes of delight on her nerve endings. “I told him I could track your party.”
“I told you where we were going.” It had been a requirement.
“Well, yes, but they don’t know that. Don’t ruin it for me. They think I’m a tracking god.”
She snorted. She had a feeling his tracking skills were just one of the reasons they thought he was so cool, but he didn’t need a bigger ego than he already had, so she kept it to herself.
They continued the hike back to camp together, Monica and Jake settling in side by side, the other five singles a little less coupled up.
But Harmon and Merriam lagged behind.
“You’re not mad, are you? That I broke up your girls’ day.”
“I should be. But no.” She leaned her head on his arm. “I was having fun before you got here, but I’m still having fun now.” She slid him a sideways look. “They are worried about me, I think. That you’re monopolizing all my time. They think I should be sampling from the dating pool.”
He stopped walking, a muscle in his jaw jumping. “And what do you think?”
“I think you should double your efforts to make sure they know I’m not settling.”
“Settling?” His hands went to his hips.
“If you want them to truly believe this is a whirlwind romance, you’re going to have to step up your game, my lord.”
“Don’t call me that.”
“Touchy, touchy.” She took advantage of the fact that they were in public, therefore she could touch him and he couldn’t back away. Not if he wanted to keep up appearances. She stepped in closer, her hands on those pecs of steel. “I’m just saying the girls think I should play the field more. Since we know I can’t do that, you need to convince them I have no reason to.”