Protecting the Princess

by Carla Cassidy

  “No, that’s all right. I’ve changed my mind,” she said. “I’d rather not get all dirty and icky.” She thought she saw a shadow of disappointment in his eyes. She didn’t care. She was everything he thought she was…a spoiled, lazy, overindulged young woman. “I’ll just hang out here and do my nails or something until dinnertime.”

  “Fine. I’ll see you at dinner.” He closed the door, but not before she saw the disgust in his eyes.

  Chapter 5

  The thunder awakened him, but it was the scream that followed that shot him out of bed. He grabbed his gun from the nightstand and bolted toward the bedroom door.

  It had been Anna’s scream. And the fear that ripped through his veins was as electric as the lightning that flashed, illuminating the night sky.

  As he left his room a hundred questions ran through his mind. Had he underestimated the enemy? Not taken the necessary security measures? The night-light burning in the hallway led him to her room.

  He didn’t bother to knock on her door, but rather threw it open and stepped inside with the gun in his hands and ready for business.

  Lightning once again seared through the sky, its brilliance filling every corner of her room. In that flash of light he saw her. It was just a flicker of sight, but it was enough to freeze him in place as thunder boomed overhead.

  She sat up in the bed and the sheet was at her waist, leaving her naked from that point up.

  “Tanner,” she gasped. Lightning flashed once again and this time he saw that she had grabbed the sheet up to her neck, hiding her nakedness from his eyes.

  “Are you all right? I heard you scream.” His voice sounded thick and strange to his own ears. That vision of her with her hair wild and tangled and her breasts bare was like a snapshot permanently burned into his brain.

  “I—I had a nightmare and the thunder frightened me. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

  She had no idea just how much she’d disturbed him. Thunder boomed again and a small cry escaped her. This time when lightning filled the room he saw her eyes, big and round and filled with fear.

  “Get dressed and we’ll get something to drink and wait for the storm to pass.” He turned and headed for his own room, where he put his gun away and pulled on a pair of jeans over his boxers.

  And tried to forget the picture of her naked in bed.

  He was surprised that the scream hadn’t awakened his father or Smokey, but as he walked through the great room toward the kitchen, nobody else stirred in the house.

  What he needed was a shot of whiskey or something that would put a fire in his gut that had nothing to do with the one Princess Anna Johansson had lit inside him.

  He poured a single glass of milk and set it at the table, then reached into the cabinet where he knew Smokey kept a bottle of whiskey hidden. He poured himself two fingers, then sat at the table to wait for her.

  He’d seen little of her that evening. She’d come to the table for dinner and had been unusually quiet. Afterward she had immediately returned to her room.

  He had the feeling that something about the phone call from her father had upset her, but the conversation had been so brief he couldn’t imagine what had been said to upset her in such a short amount of time.

  She was probably devastated to realize she was stuck here for a week or two and had spent that time in her room pouting like a child who hadn’t gotten her way. She’d certainly made it clear that she didn’t want to be here a moment longer than necessary.

  He’d thought she was somehow needling him when she’d told him she slept in the nude, but he knew now she’d been telling him the truth. He turned the glass of whiskey in his hand, wondering how many of them he’d have to drink before that vision of her would blur in his head.

  Unfortunately he couldn’t afford to have as many as it would take to fuzz his thoughts. It never left his mind that he was on duty twenty-four hours a day.

  “I’d rather have one of those than a glass of milk,” she said as she entered the room. She gestured to the whiskey he held, then winced as another clap of thunder boomed overhead. She slid into a chair at the table and wrapped her arms around herself.

  He nodded and got up to get her a glass. When he returned to the table he poured her a small amount of the amber liquid, then watched as she took a sip.

  She was dressed in the same T-shirt and jeans she’d had on earlier in the day and he tried desperately to keep his gaze off her breasts, tried to forget their naked fullness with their dark pink centers.

  “I’m sorry I screamed and woke you. It’s not just the storm,” she said, wrapping her slender fingers around the small glass in front of her. “It’s the combination of the storm and the nightmare I was having about that day at the airport and the thunder boomed and in my dream it was a gun shooting and my father was shot and there was blood….” Her voice trailed off and she closed her eyes, as if to steady herself.

  For the first time Tanner realized the trauma that she’d suffered in the days before she’d appeared on his doorstep.

  She hadn’t really talked about the terror of being roused out of sleep and taken away from home.

  She hadn’t really told him all about that moment in the airport when guns had blazed and bullets had flown. Whatever terror she’d felt had been hidden beneath a layer of attitude.

  “It was just a dream,” he said, recognizing that his words could do little to help with whatever was going on in her head.

  “I know.” She opened her eyes and he saw the glimmer of tears. “It was just so awful.” She jumped as thunder once again boomed so loud that the windows rattled in their frames. “The thunder sounds like the guns that day at the airport.”

  She downed the liquor in one swallow and he followed her lead, downing his own as quickly. “You want to talk about it?” he asked, and poured them each another small shot.

  She stared down into the glass and turned it slowly in her hands. “It had been such a long flight and my father and I were both exhausted.” Her voice was soft and low. “We got off the plane and went to the baggage claim to get our bags.”

  She paused a moment and twirled her glass between her fingers, then continued. “We got our luggage and followed the signs for ground transportation and had just stepped outside of the airport when the gunmen began shooting.”

  Her eyes were haunted and she reached a trembling hand across the table toward him. He hesitated only a second, then grabbed her hand in his. So small, he thought. Her hand was so small and soft and trembling, and a fierce, unexpected protectiveness swelled up in his chest.

  “Bullets seemed to come from every direction. I don’t know how they managed to miss me, miss my father. I don’t know how the rebels didn’t kill innocent people with their attack.”

  “Thank God they didn’t.”

  She squeezed his hand and gave him a forced smile. “Yes, thank God for that. Have you ever been shot at?”

  The question let him know she wanted a change of subject. “Once. A couple years ago.”

  “What happened?” She held his hand tight as if he were her lifeline through the storm and through the darkness of her memory.

  “I was acting as a bodyguard for a businessman who had ticked off a nasty ex-con. We were getting into the car one morning and somebody took a shot. It shattered the windshield on the car, but missed us.”

  “Were you scared?” she asked.

  “I’m not the kind of man who scares easily.”

  “So what happened?” she asked.

  “The ex-con wasn’t especially bright. Two witnesses saw him take the shot at us. He was arrested, and as far as I know is still in prison for attempted murder.”

  “You’re very brave.”

  “No more than anyone else,” he countered. He was feeling uncomfortable, aware that he was seeing a side to her that he hadn’t seen before. It was a softer, more vulnerable side and it was far too appealing for his comfort.

  “I was just doing what had to
be done,” he said gruffly, then pulled his hand from hers and drank the last of the whiskey in his glass.

  “What did my father have to say to you?” she asked.

  He leaned back in his chair and frowned thoughtfully. “Not a lot. We only spoke for a moment. But he did give me the name of the fanatical rebels…the Brotherhood of the Mist. I spent most of the evening on the Internet trying to find out something about them, but had no luck.”

  “At least you got that much. It’s certainly more than he said to me.” She looked down for a long moment, and when she looked back at him her eyes were filled with a soft vulnerability, a deep longing for something. It shook him.

  “Your father…is he a good king?”

  A tiny frown appeared between her eyebrows. “He’s a good man and he wants what’s best for the country, but I don’t think he’s been a man in touch with the people. I think he’s ignored the fact that it’s time for changes in Niflheim.”

  “Sounds to me like he can’t ignore it any longer,” he observed. “What do you want for your country?”

  “Me?” She looked surprised, as if nobody had ever asked her opinion before. The frown deepened slightly. “I’m just hoping some sort of compromise can be reached that would allow my father a place and give the people what they want.” She shrugged. “Where did you meet my father?”

  “A couple of months ago we were both at a fund-raiser in Washington. We found ourselves standing next to each other while we waited to be seated for dinner. I told him about my business and he told me about his connection to my father. He also mentioned his daughter.”

  “That’s surprising,” she murmured so softly he wasn’t sure he’d heard her correctly.

  Again he was struck by how fragile she looked, how lost. “The storm has pretty well passed. You shouldn’t have any problems sleeping for the rest of the night.” He stood, feeling the need to escape her.

  Anna with her pretty blue eyes and winsome smile. Anna with her soft skin and provocative scent. Anna with her full breasts and her bare flesh shining in that flash of lightning. She suddenly scared him more than any bullet he might have to dodge.

  She downed her drink without blinking, then stood and carried her glass to the sink. When she turned to face him her eyelids were heavy and, with her tousled hair, she looked sexy as hell.

  “Come on, it’s late and going without sleep makes me cranky,” he said.

  “Everything makes you cranky,” she replied.

  He merely grunted, his blood pressure feeling dangerously high as he followed behind her to the bedrooms. She had a sexy sway to her hips that could torment a man to distraction.

  She stopped at her bedroom door and turned to face him, her features illuminated by the night-light that burned in the hallway. “Thank you, Tanner. Thank you for distracting me through the storm.”

  “It’s all part of the job,” he said, trying desperately to keep everything on a professional basis. He started to walk away, but stopped as she called his name once again.

  “The offer of the tour of the ranch, does it still stand?”

  “Sure. We could do it tomorrow.”

  “I’d like that,” she replied, then disappeared into the room and closed her door.

  Tanner went to his bedroom, knowing that sleep would be a long time coming. He shucked off his jeans and got back into bed, adrenaline making relaxation impossible.

  Thoughts of Anna filled his head, visions of her danced in front of his eyes. He had to remember that bad dreams and a thunderstorm had prompted the softness, the vulnerability, he’d seen moments before.

  He had no doubt in his mind that when the sun was shining once again in the morning she’d return to being irritating, outspoken and demanding.

  Now if he could just forget how she’d looked in bed.

  The alarm clock went off and Anna groaned and threw a hand out to slap at the offending instrument. She rolled over and sat up, eyeing the clock with malicious intent.

  Five-thirty. In her real life she rarely got up before noon.

  If she’d been home she would have awakened when she’d felt like it and rung for her personal maid and assistant. Astrid would have come into her bedroom carrying her breakfast on a tray and while Anna ate they would have talked about the plans for the day.

  Her automatic response now was to fall back down and go back to sleep, but instead she got out of bed and headed for the shower, determined that she’d be at the table when breakfast was served.

  As she stood beneath the spray of hot water, she thought of those moments she’d spent in the kitchen with Tanner the night before.

  The storm had terrified her, but she’d been comforted by his calm, steady presence. She tried to forget the vision she’d had of him in that brief flash of lightning when he’d first entered her bedroom.

  He’d been wearing only a pair of boxers and he’d stolen her breath away with his half-naked masculinity. She’d wanted to leap out of bed and into his arms. She’d wanted to feel his broad, muscled chest against her bare breasts. She’d wanted to stand up and pull him down on the bed with her.

  It must have been the storm and her fear that had created such crazy feelings. She didn’t need a man like Tanner in her life, at least not after the potential for danger had passed. She definitely didn’t need too many mornings beginning before the crack of dawn.

  She dressed and pulled her still damp hair together with a ribbon at the nape of her neck, then left her bedroom and headed for the dining room.

  She was surprised to discover herself the first one there. As she stood hesitantly in the doorway, Smokey came in through the kitchen carrying a large platter of bacon and sausage.

  “Well, well. Will wonders never cease?” he said as he set the platter on the table. “She’s actually going to make a meal on time.”

  “Oh, stuff it in your ear, Smokey,” she muttered, refusing to be intimidated by him.

  One of his grizzled gray eyebrows shot up in surprise then a small smile curled one corner of his mouth. “Coffee’s coming,” he said, then returned to the kitchen.

  Before Smokey returned with the coffee, Tanner entered the dining room, looking as crabby as a grizzly bear awakened from his winter’s nap.

  “Good morning,” she said as she sat at her place at the table. “You look like you crawled out on the wrong side of the bed.” She smiled at Red, who followed on his son’s heels.

  Tanner’s scowl deepened and before he could say anything Smokey reentered with a pot of steaming coffee. He served Anna first, then Tanner, who threw himself into his chair at the table as if the entire world was an affront to him.

  His foul mood didn’t seem to ease with the meal. As Anna listened to Red tell her stories about past spring storms, Tanner nursed a cup of coffee, his eyes dark and fathomless.

  “So, are we on for the tour of the ranch?” she asked, rising when breakfast was finished.

  “I’ve got some work to catch up on this morning in the study. We’ll take the tour after lunch.” As he stood, it was obvious his tone of voice brooked no room for argument. “In the meantime, you can go back to bed or count your diamonds or do whatever princesses do in the mornings.”

  She had no idea what had caused his current mood but was aware that he was dismissing her, just like her father did so often. “A wonderful idea,” she said airily. “I’ll just crawl back into bed and catch up on my beauty sleep or maybe do my nails. It’s a shame there isn’t a spa nearby. I don’t believe I’ve ever gone this long without a facial.”

  That telltale muscle ticked in his jaw. “Stay in the house, stay out of trouble and I’ll see you at lunch,” he said, then turned and left the dining room.

  “He’s got his britches twisted in a knot this morning, doesn’t he?” Red said as he sipped his coffee.

  Anna couldn’t help but smile at Red’s words. “I’ve never heard that particular expression before,” she said, and once again sat at the table.

  “I’d say in
this instance it fits.” Red shook his head and took another sip of his coffee.

  “If I was to guess, he was born with his britches in a knot,” she said.

  Red grinned, then shook his head once again. “I keep telling him he needs to take some time off, have a vacation and forget the business for a while, but he doesn’t listen to me.”

  “He strikes me as a man who doesn’t listen to anyone,” she replied.

  “He’s a tough one, all right. Always has been, even when he was young. But he’s a good man. Wild West Protective Services enjoyed a good reputation and a certain amount of success while the kids were growing up, but it was Tanner who took the business by the horns and grew it into the multimillion dollar industry it has become.” There was an undeniable ring of love and respect in Red’s voice. “He’s a successful man, but I think he’s a lonely man.”

  If he’s lonely, it’s his own fault, Anna thought a few minutes later as she left the dining room. He was judgmental and overbearing. Was it any wonder he didn’t have a woman in his life?

  She walked to the window in the great room and peered outside. The sun was just peeking over the horizon, sending splashes of pinks and oranges across the sky. The beauty made her breath catch in her throat.

  She opened the front door and stepped out onto the wide, wraparound porch, taking in the sweet-scented morning air as she watched the most beautiful sunrise she’d ever seen in her life. The colors were as bright, as pure, as any gemstone she’d ever seen.

  Maybe this was why ranchers got up at such an ungodly hour, to enjoy this spectacle of nature. It was worth every minute of sleep she’d missed.

  She saw several men walking in the distance and assumed they were hired help for the ranch. They waved and she waved back. Several horses danced in a fenced area, snorting and feisty as if the crisp morning air suited their fancy.

  For the first time since arriving, she felt peace filter through her, a peace she couldn’t remember feeling for a very long time.