by Romancing the Crown Series (13-in-1 bundle) (v1. 0) (lit)
Her original plan had called for escaping Roberto, or whomever her father sent along, in the crowded airport—the primary reason she'd booked a commercial flight. It wasn't the best plan, she acknowledged, for she wouldn't have been able to contact anyone until she was certain her escape had been successful, and in the meantime, Christina would have been frantic at her failure to appear. Now that she wouldn't be allowed to set foot in a crowded airport, she needed a new plan.
Montebello was nine hours ahead of Montana, so though it would be approximately 11:00 p.m. Montebello time when they arrived, in Billings it would be midafternoon. She could insist they stop for her first Montana fast-food hamburger, then excuse herself to go to the ladies' room, where she would change into the outfit in her bag. By the time he realized she was taking too long, she would be well on her way back to the airport by taxicab to rent a car. And while he looked for a woman in a red Armani dress and black coat, she would disappear into the crowd in her faded Levis, University of Montana sweatshirt, parka and Reeboks.
And frankly, she admitted as she heard laughter—both male and female—from the next compartment, she couldn't care less what the repercussions were for him.
Chapter 2
B y the time they landed in Billings, Tyler had one hell of a headache and thought the muscles in his neck were never going to relax again. After resting three or four hours, the princess had given him the royal cold shoulder for the remainder of the trip—which should have suited him just fine but for some obscure reason he chose not to examine pissed him off. He'd discovered too late that, with Mareta, a little friendliness went a long way. She'd wasted no time informing him that the crew was spending the night in town before heading back to Montebello and had made it clear that she wouldn't mind at all spending it with him. On top of that, according to the captain's announcement, it was colder than the North Pole and snowing in Billings.
He'd learned during his winter as a ski instructor that his nature was much better suited to tropical warmth than winter cold and snow.
Thank God the first part of this job was almost over.
The plane landed smoothly and taxied to the general aviation terminal. A black SUV bearing a rental sticker on the rear bumper was parked nearby—the one he'd requested, Tyler hoped. The quicker he could drop off the princess at her sister's, the quicker he could put some mileage between him and her—and him and Mareta—and the happier he would be.
Once the air stairs were locked in place, he pulled his jacket on, then the parka. It was leftover from his days as a ski instructor and immediately brought to mind other ventures, other failures. First thing he'd do after getting rid of the princess, he decided, was dump the coat and the memories, and buy a new one.
The princess came forward, wearing a black coat that completely covered her from chin to foot. She'd traded her red heels for a pair of black boots, better suited to unstable footing, and was draping a black woolen scarf over her hair.
"Wait here while I make certain we're ready to go," he said, slinging the strap of his gym bag over one shoulder, and she nodded once.
The cold air hit him like a punch and made him suck in his breath—not the brightest idea, since it felt as if the air had frozen every particle in his lungs. He spoke to the customs officer, then he rental agent who was, indeed, delivering the black SUV for them. After leaving his bag in the vehicle, he returned to the plane, where the princess waited, gloved hands clasped in front of her. "Are you ready, Your Highness?"
"You may bring my bag," she said, nodding toward the shoulder bag that was bigger than a lot of suitcases he'd seen. He shook his head. "Sorry, Princess. I'm a bodyguard, not a porter. How can I protect you if my hands are full with your luggage?"
She gave him a look as frosty as the air outside. "And what are you protecting me from in Montana?"
"Did a terrorist organization attempt to kidnap your sister, Julia, a few months ago?"
"It wasn't my sister. Merely a look-alike."
"But the terrorists didn't know that, did they?" He gave her a moment to respond, but she didn't. "If you want to wait here, I'll take your bag to the car, then come back for you."
"Never mind." She picked up the bag and would have pushed past him if he hadn't expected it. He went down the stairs first, then hustled her to the SUV. Onlookers had gathered outside the terminal, curious about who had just arrived among them in a fancy private jet, but the princess was slender enough and he was broad-shouldered enough that he doubted anyone got more than a glimpse of black.
He gave her a hand into the high seat and closed the door, then circled the truck to the driver's side. Fortunately, the rental guy hadn't been waiting long. The temperature inside the truck was about forty comfortable degrees warmer than outside, and the instant he started the engine, hot air blasted from the vents.
"Do you need directions to Christina's house?"
"I have them." And he'd spent the last hour memorizing them. He didn't want to get lost or delay the important part of his trip any longer than necessary—or prolong his time with the princess. Women were a complication he had no time or desire for, and that went double for her.
The roads were clear, and the snow was the tiny, hard kind that was more annoyance than anything else. Still, he was grateful for the four-wheel drive and the heavy weight of the vehicle. Both would come in handy once he got out on the back roads surrounding the mines he was scheduled to check out.
The princess sat stiffly, staring out the side window. Other than loosening her scarf and removing her gloves, he hadn't seen her move at all since they'd pulled away from the terminal. Still ticked off at him, he figured, though damned if he knew for what. He wouldn't waste much time worrying over it, though. He'd never met a woman yet that he truly understood, and the royal pain of the Sebastiani family wasn't likely to be the first.
They were sitting at a stoplight on a street filled with gas stations, fast-food restaurants and strip centers when an abrupt change came over her. Pointing imperiously to a restaurant a block ahead, she turned to him, smiled broadly, and said "Look! The golden arches! We shall have our first hamburger."
The thought of fast-food anything when his body was still on Montebello almost-middle-of-the-night time made his stomach queasy. "We just ate dinner a few hours ago."
She made a dismissive gesture. "Roasted duckling and wild rice stuffing. We can have that any time. But an honest-to-goodness American hamburger…"
He changed lanes, then slowed to turn into the driveway "We'll go to the drive-through—"
"I'll go inside." The moment he stopped behind the last car in the drive-through lane, she released her seat belt and was reaching for the door handle.
He grabbed her wrist. "You don't go anywhere alone, Your Highness," he reminded her sharply. With a look in the rearview minor, he swung out of the lane and into a parking space, shutting off the engine before releasing her.
"May I open the door now, Mr. Ramsey?" she asked in a killingly polite voice.
"No." He got out, zipped his coat, then went around to open her door. They crossed the parking lot together, stomped the snow off their boots inside the door, then headed for the counter. Halfway there, she pulled back.
"Why don't you order while I visit the ladies' room?" Jeez, she had her own private bathroom on the plane they'd just left, he groused. How could she possibly need to go here? "Why don't I wait at that table right there—" he nodded toward the table nearest the bathrooms "—until you're finished?"
Her smile was cool and disdainful and made his temperature rise a few degrees. "I assure you, Mr. Ramsey, even princesses get to go to the bathroom alone."
He shrugged. "It's your choice. I can wait … or you can." With her own impatient shrug, she turned and walked up to the counter. She ordered a hamburger and diet pop. He got nothing, but paid the tab and carried the tray to a table. There she undid the wrapper, pinched off a piece of burger and chewed it slowly. "You know, I have traveled with bodyguards my enti
re life, and you, Mr. Ramsey, are the least pleasant of them all."
He felt a flush of guilt that, damn it, he shouldn't be feeling. He hadn't done anything wrong. He just took his duties seriously—and that was what had her royal nose out of joint. "I'm not trying to be unpleasant, Your Highness—"
"And yet see how well you succeed." She pinched off another piece of bun and meat and delicately chewed it. "I shall tell Papa you're a most unsuitable bodyguard."
Please do, was what Tyler wanted to say, because maybe then he'd be spared any future baby-sitting jobs. But King Marcus knew his daughter well and would probably figure that any bodyguard she didn't like was one who did the job exactly the way he was supposed to, and with his luck, that would be the only job the king would give him from then on out
So, though it meant locking his jaws together, he said nothing. "I shall tell him you were rude and disrespectful, and that you were more concerned with arranging a rendezvous with Mareta than you were with seeing to my safety."
What did she know about Mareta? She was supposed to have been sleeping while he and the flight attendant watched the movie and talked. And what did it matter anyway? As she'd pointed out, they'd been in an airplane. How much more secure could she have been?
"You tell him whatever you want, Your Highness," he said as if he honestly couldn't care less. "But don't force me to tell the king that I just missed finding his son because his youngest daughter delayed my departure so she could play with her food and pout."
She shot him a frigid look, then stood up from the table and walked away. By the time he'd gathered the remains of her meal and tossed them in the trash, she'd reached the door and was waiting, her head held high, her expression impassive.
Neither of them spoke again on the drive to her sister's house. The place was located a short distance outside the city in a private community called Eagle's Nest. The Sebastiani-Dalton house was an architectural wonder, all wood, stone and glass, and a security nightmare—though it was a fair bet Jack Dalton had, at the least, made sure all that glass was bulletproof.
Tyler parked in front of the garage, sunk into the hillside beneath the house, and shut off the engine. As anxious as she'd been to see her sister, the princess didn't look too excited to finally be there. Probably still pissed at him, he thought. That was perfectly all right with him. So was the prospect of never being stuck with her again—hell, never even seeing her again.
Though a small voice in his head suggested he was kidding himself on all three counts.
"Let's see if your sister's home, then I'll unload your luggage."
Without even glancing his way, she got out of the truck and started up the stone path that led to the door. He stayed close behind her, his gaze frequently sweeping over the rocks, the dense trees, the heavy plantings—things that gave the lot much of its appeal and also provided much of the risk. Too many places to take cover, to launch an assault. If he were married to a princess—
His gaze settling on the sway of Princess Anna's hips, unmistakable even under the ankle-length black coat, he cut off that line of thought. He would never marry a princess. Period. Would never date one, sleep with one, even think about kissing one. Never.
Once they reached the top of the path, she was reaching for the doorbell when suddenly the door swung open and, with a squeal of delight, Princess Christina threw her arms around Princess Anna. "I'm so glad you're here! I've been waiting all day!"
He wasn't sure he'd ever seen two women who looked less like sisters. With her fair skin, blond hair and blue eyes, the elder princess took after their mother, Queen Gwendolyn, while the younger had the darker Italian coloring of the king, giving her an exotic air. There was no question, though, they were both beautiful—and no doubt they were genuinely happy to see each other.
The two women hugged and chattered for a moment, then Princess Christina finally noticed him. "I'm sorry to be so rude. My only excuse is I haven't seen my baby sister in too long. Please, come in." She offered one slim hand. "I'm Christina Sebastiani Dalton."
"Tyler Ramsey."
"Of course. I've met your father. Come in. Make yourself at home."
Princess Anna paused at the entrance to the living room. "Your house is beautiful, Christina. Exactly as I imagined it. And the snow…" She gestured toward the tall windows with both arms extended wide. "It's breathtaking."
"We like it," her sister said modestly. "Tyler, can I get you something to drink? A bite to eat?"
"No, thank you, Your Highness."
Her blue eyes gleamed at that. "No one's called me that in ages. Around here, I'm Dr. S. or just plain Christina. So, please, forget the protocol."
He didn't know what devil made him do it. One second he was opening his mouth to politely refuse her request, and the next, he heard himself saying, "If you insist, Christina."
Princess Anna shot him a look that should have reduced him to a pile of cinders and ash right there on the flagstone floor. Her dark eyes flashed, and her full, kissable lips thinned into a harsh line before she pointedly turned her back on him.
"That's better," Christina said, unaware of her sister's temper. "Take your coat off and get comfortable."
"Thank you, but I need to get going. If you'll excuse me, I'll bring up the princess's luggage, then be on my way."
Immediately Christina sobered. "You must be tired after the lug flight and the time change. Why don't you spend the night here, then start your search for Lucas fresh in the morning? You're welcome to the extra guest room."
Tyler looked from her to Princess Anna, whose back was still to him. The idea of crawling right into bed and sleeping until morning certainly appealed to him … but the idea of sleeping with the prissy princess in the next room sure as hell didn't "Thank you, Christina, but I need to make a few stops. I'll check into a hotel in town once I'm finished."
"Well, if you insist…"
Princess Anna muttered something that sounded like, "He does," before disappearing into the living room.
It took Tyler one heavily laden trip to get the princess's luggage inside. He left the bags at the foot of the stairs, then accepted the hand Christina offered.
"Thank you for delivering my sister safely to me."
"My pleasure," he said. And he really did mean it
"Anna! Tyler's leaving."
"Good riddance," she replied in a voice meant to carry.
Christina smiled indulgently. "She appreciates it, too. Be careful … and good luck."
As he hustled through the snow back down to the truck, he grinned. He was free of the princess, his headache was gone, and the muscles in his neck had loosened significantly. He would even swear the temperature had warmed five or ten degrees since they'd touched down at the airport.
Coincidence? He thought not. More likely the thank-God-that's-over effect.
Now he was ready to get down to some real work.
* * *
Another perfectly good plan ruined, Anna thought morosely as she waited for Christina to return after seeing Tyler off, and it was all his fault. Now she must devise an entirely new plan, one for a situation with a much greater drawback than she'd expected—namely, her sister. Unfortunately, at the moment, her mind was blank.
Hearing footsteps on the wood floor and knowing her sister would have at least a question or two about her uncharacteristically rude behavior, she turned with a brilliant smile. "Where is my handsome brother-in-law?"
The mere mention of her husband brought a sweet serenity to Christina's features as she settled on the leather sofa. "Jack's away on a job. He'll be back in a few days. You know, I lived alone for years, but now, let him go away for more than a day or two and I miss him terribly."
"If he were here, presumably, he would be following up the clues regarding Lucas, and there would have been no need to send Tyler Ramsey," Anna remarked. It wasn't until she saw her sister's curious look that she realized how tart her tone had been. With the heat of a blush creeping into her cheeks, s
he clasped her hands tightly behind her back and offered a question calculated to distract her sister from her all-too-apparent curiosity. "When are you and Jack going to follow Julia's lead and make an aunt of me?"
Now the pink was in Christina's cheeks. "Actually, we're … ah, contemplating—no, that's not the right word. Considering? Entertaining? Laboring toward?"
"Laboring…" Anna stared wide-eyed at her. "You're pregnant?"
"Not yet. But I'm confident it's only a matter of time. We're giving it our very best try." Then the esteemed microbial ecologist gave a decidedly unesteemed giggle. "And having a wonderful time at it."
"Oh, Christina, that's fabulous news! Mama and Papa will be ecstatic."
Her sister shook one finger in warning. "Not a breath of it to anyone until the test comes back positive. Promise?"
"I promise. Once that happens, what about Jack's traveling?" She couldn't imagine her sister pregnant and alone while her husband was out saving the world. It had been so difficult for their older sister, Julia, in the months Rashid had been gone, and she had been surrounded by family.
"We've discussed that, and he's already spoken to his superiors about changing the focus of his work for the Noble Men from the field to an advisor/analyst position. That's one of the good things about a former Navy SEAL." Christina's expression turned humorously sly. "He's so versatile."
Partly awed by and partly envious of her sister's obvious love for her husband, Anna completed a slow circuit around the room before letting her hands curve over the back of an antique wooden chair. "Has there been any further news regarding Lucas?"