Defending the Duchess

by Rachelle Mccalla

  “Somewhere?”

  “He didn’t want to come to the office. He wanted to meet me in private.”

  Concern swept across Linus’s features. “Did you?”

  “No. His request struck me wrong. I hardly knew him, and he refused to meet in a public place. He’s a rather big guy.” Pulled in by Linus’s concern, Julia found she couldn’t force herself to look away from him any longer. His brown eyes simmered with concern for her safety, reminding her all too clearly of how she’d felt when he’d carried her back along the beach. His strong arms had enveloped her securely, keeping her attacker and her fear at bay.

  “How big?”

  Julia struggled to think. “Over six feet tall.”

  “Six-two, one-eighty?” Linus echoed the specs he’d stated earlier.

  Julia froze. She stared into Linus’s eyes as though she could find the answer there. But all she saw was an earnest desire to help, and determination to uncover the truth.

  Linus waited before asking in a patient tone, “Could the engineer have been your attacker?”

  Julia hated to impugn a man who might be innocent. And yet, the circumstances all pointed in the same direction. Someone had fought with Linus on the beach. Someone had tried to carry her off. Though she hadn’t heard him speaking enough to recognize his voice, neither could she rule him out. Reluctantly she admitted, “It’s possible.”

  “Do you have any other information about him? Contact info?”

  “I have his phone numbers, his address, his email address, along with all the emails he ever sent me. I never delete anything—I’m a lawyer. We understand the importance of an evidence trail.”

  “Good girl.” Linus began to smile, but then his eyes narrowed. “All the emails? How many did he send you?”

  “When I represented Seattle Electronics, he was forthcoming with everything. I got the impression he wanted to cooperate. Maybe he even felt bad for letting negotiations with Motormech go so far.”

  “Or he wanted you to think he felt bad,” Linus surmised.

  “Maybe.” She sighed regretfully. “Anyway, he sent me a few scattered emails and text messages over the past couple months asking me to meet with him. Not harassing, necessarily, but enough that it creeped me out—that, and his insistence on meeting me in private.” It was too much to look at Linus without remembering the feel of his arms around her. She wished she could reach for him and feel his strong shoulder against her cheek again, but she couldn’t make such a request after all he’d done for her that evening. So instead she leaned her head back against the pillows and closed her eyes. She felt exhausted by all that had happened and irked by the nagging feeling that she’d forgotten some important detail. But what?

  “I’m glad you didn’t go,” Linus told her, his voice gentle, even caring. “If you get a chance, can you forward me those emails and texts?”

  “Sure.” She kept her eyes closed, wishing she could block out all memory of what happened on the beach. Rather than trying to remember the details, she wished she could forget.

  * * *

  Linus absorbed the information Julia had given him. He wanted to ask her more questions, but the duchess looked exhausted, and he almost thought she’d fallen asleep. She ought to be tucked securely into her suite before she turned in for the night, but he didn’t want to disturb her, not when the fear had finally begun to fade from her features.

  For his part, he wouldn’t be able to rest any time soon. Not until he’d learned everything he could about this Fletcher Pendleton—including whether he’d recently traveled to Lydia. If the man was currently on Lydian soil, Linus wanted to catch him before he left again.

  But then, if the man was after Julia, he probably wouldn’t leave the country. Not yet, not until he’d gotten what he’d come for. If anything, he’d try something more aggressive the next time. But what did he want?

  Linus didn’t understand why the man would be after Julia. Did he resent her involvement in his case, or blame her for the role she’d played in ending the deal he’d nearly made? Perhaps he’d watched her on the televised coverage of Queen Monica’s coronation and wedding vow renewal ceremonies. Maybe he thought he could somehow tap into her fifteen minutes of fame.

  If Fletcher Pendleton was their man, he already had several advantages over them, including a motive they had yet to understand. Linus was going to have his work cut out for him if he intended to catch Fletcher before the man tried to hurt Julia again. And he feared Pendleton would, indeed, try to hurt Julia again.

  Linus took a step toward the door and the floor creaked beneath him.

  Julia’s eyes snapped open. “Linus?”

  He was back at her side in an instant. “Yes?”

  “One other thing. It might be important.” She made a face. “Yes, it’s probably important.” She met his eyes and her lower lip trembled.

  Linus returned her gaze without wavering and tried to communicate trust, reassurance, safety. She had to feel safe enough to share her fears. At the same time, he wished he could erase the worry that had clouded her features.

  “The man who attacked me tonight said something.” She pinched her eyes shut.

  In spite of his frustration that she hadn’t mentioned it earlier, Linus tried to be encouraging. “What did he say?”

  “He said—” her voice squeaked as she quoted “—I don’t want to have to hurt you. I just need your file.”

  “Your file?” Linus repeated.

  “I think that’s what he said. That’s what it sounded like.”

  “Any idea what he meant by that?”

  “I don’t know.” She paused and wriggled her lips a bit more, clearly fighting back waves of emotions that threatened to leak out with her words. “Well, maybe there is something. It’s probably nothing. Even the police seemed skeptical.”

  “The police?” Linus felt a jolt of alarm snap through him. Though it confirmed his hunch that she’d experienced trouble back home, he still didn’t like it. “When were the police involved?”

  “Don’t tell my sister,” Julia insisted. “She doesn’t know. I don’t want her to worry.”

  “I don’t want her to worry, either,” Linus agreed, “but I need to know what happened. I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s going on.”

  Julia looked up at the elaborate plasterwork that decorated the high ceiling of the parlor. She appeared to be gathering her thoughts. “Three weeks ago when I arrived at my office on a Monday morning, my office was...disturbed.”

  “Disturbed?” he prompted when she was silent for some time.

  Julia locked eyes with him again. The unshed tears that shimmered behind her lashes begged him to believe her. “I have a violet plant near my window. I was going to water it first thing when I noticed that a couple of leaves had been bent. Violet leaves are very tender. If you bend them they snap and they don’t recover—they leave a brown mark right along the bend. Then I looked closer and the dirt was loose.”

  “Someone knocked your plant over?”

  She nodded solemnly. “And then whoever knocked it over set it back up again and put the dirt that had fallen out back under the leaves.”

  “Cleaning lady?”

  “No. The cleaning lady doesn’t work weekends, only Tuesday nights, and she doesn’t have keys to the offices—she just cleans the restrooms and public areas.”

  Linus understood. “Too much sensitive client information inside the offices.”

  “Exactly. After I noticed the plant, I got curious. My office door is always locked—sensitive client information, you know—so no one should have been in there. Nothing else looked out of place. But when I checked my file cabinet, the lock had been picked on one of the drawers.”

  “How do you know?”

  “The lock looked a little scraped u
p. And when I tugged on the handle, it came open, even though it should have been locked.”

  Linus tried not to wince at the thought of Julia’s hand erasing any fingerprints that might have been on the handle—but then he reminded himself that any criminal fit to pick a lock was probably wearing gloves. Besides, there was a far more important question he needed to ask. “Was anything missing from the file cabinet?”

  Her expression clouded immediately. “I scoured it folder by folder. I couldn’t find anything missing—not a single page. I called the police and they came to investigate, but I have to admit I felt foolish. They tried to take my case seriously, but other than someone reading confidential client information, I couldn’t imagine then what the motive might have been.”

  “You couldn’t imagine it then,” Linus repeated softly, hoping she’d clarify.

  She did. “The file drawer that was damaged contained the Seattle Electronics vs. Pendleton file.”

  He swallowed as the significance sank in. “Where’s the file now?”

  “In my office back in Seattle.”

  Linus tried to put the pieces together, but he couldn’t make them fit. “The guy on the beach said he wanted your file.”

  “That’s what I think he said,” Julia said, correcting him.

  If the situation hadn’t been so critical, Linus might have laughed at her lawyerlike insistence on clarifying that point. But either way, he couldn’t see the sense in the man’s motive. If Pendleton wanted her file, why would he follow her to Lydia instead of staying in Seattle and taking the file while she was out of the country? Linus shook his head, unable to answer the many questions that were already piling up. Only one thing mattered for the moment, and that was Julia’s well-being.

  “It’s late. I should get you back to your suite.”

  Julia reached for him without protest, meeting his eyes just long enough to flash him an appreciative smile before turning her attention to her feet. As her small hand settled on his arm and his free arm wrapped around her waist, supporting her as he led her back to the hallway, a new fear hit him.

  He liked the duchess.

  Not that he’d ever disliked her. In fact, he’d held her in complete respect from the moment they’d first been introduced. But it was more than that, now. He’d fought for her. Held her—even held her while she cried.

  This was new, dangerous territory, and he couldn’t have stumbled into it at a worse time.

  Earlier that summer, the head of the royal guard had conspired against the royal family, nearly ousting them from the throne. Linus and his fellow loyal guardsmen had helped the Royal House of Lydia reclaim the throne, and the former head of the guard had died trying to stop them.

  Jason had started his term as new head of the guard by thoroughly investigating the records and backgrounds of all the royal guards.

  Including Linus.

  Jason had discovered Linus’s juvenile criminal record, during the rebellious phase he’d put behind him so long ago. Jason understood that Linus wasn’t a threat to the crown, that he’d learned his lesson long ago and would never return to a life of petty crime, but the new head of the guard had also made one thing perfectly clear when he’d revealed to Linus what he’d learned.

  If Linus ever did anything that would require an investigation, Jason would have to share the details of what he’d learned with the relevant authorities, including the royal family. Linus would most likely lose his job—especially if the revelation was prompted by a strike against him.

  The solution was simple. Linus could not allow a single blemish to mar his record in the future, or he might lose everything he’d worked so hard for—his spot on the royal guard, and any shot he ever had at earning his grandfather’s respect. His grandpa Murati had bailed him out too many times when he was a teen, and inspired him to turn his life around. Linus wanted to make him proud by being the best royal guard he could be.

  Which was why the surge of unfamiliar emotions he felt for Julia were as dangerous as the man he’d fought earlier on the beach. Right now, he was ready to track down anyone who might ever hurt her, to head back to Seattle if necessary to make certain she was safe. But was that the best plan, or were his growing feelings fueling his zeal?

  Linus tucked his arm more securely around Julia as they made their way up the stairs to her room. She looked up at him briefly before settling her cheek against the crook of his shoulder.

  It was a convenient spot for her to rest her head. It made climbing the stairs easier.

  It also sent his heart soaring with emotions he didn’t dare explore.

  Julia Miller was Queen Monica’s little sister, and soon to be a duchess of Lydia. Linus had no right to touch her, except insofar as she needed his help as she did right now. He’d need to get his head on straight and get his emotions under control.

  He needed to be the perfect royal guard. Any missteps and he might find himself ousted from the guard. Who would keep Julia safe then?

  FOUR

  “Paul, isn’t it?” Julia greeted the guard who’d been assigned to her the morning after the attack. Of course, she’d known that Linus would be off duty now after working the evening before, but she couldn’t suppress the distinct sense of disappointment she felt.

  “That’s right. And I’m to stick with you wherever you go today, even inside the palace,” Paul said apologetically. “Her majesty’s orders.”

  “So Monica knows?”

  “She was briefed over breakfast.”

  Julia nodded, feeling foolish for rising too late to stop her sister from hearing the bad news. But between her late-evening adventures the night before and the fact that she was still used to Seattle time nine hours later than Lydian time, she’d done well to wake up when she had.

  “We can still get you breakfast, if you’d like,” Paul quickly offered.

  “Wonderful.” Julia hopped through the open doorway of her suite, still favoring her injured leg.

  Paul offered her an arm, which she accepted gratefully. Though the young man seemed perfectly competent and solidly built, Julia couldn’t help feeling something was missing. When they paused at the bottom of the stairs, she studied his face.

  “Can I help you?” Paul looked worried.

  “Just lead me to my breakfast, please.” Julia turned her attention to her feet. She didn’t need to look at Paul any longer to realize what was wrong.

  He wasn’t Linus.

  That was it. It wasn’t a major flaw. Certainly Paul couldn’t help it. But she felt the difference acutely. Though both men wore the same uniform and both were polite and eager to help, Paul wasn’t Linus.

  Julia tried to think what it was that made the difference. Linus made her feel at ease. Comforted. Protected. Maybe that was all there was to it. Linus had fought off that awful man on the beach.

  And yet, she couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something more to her feelings than just that.

  “Julia!” Queen Monica breezed up behind her as she entered the small dining room, and caught her in a sisterly hug. “What happened last night? I can’t believe our guards let you get hurt!”

  Julia squeezed back and clarified, “It wasn’t their fault. If Linus hadn’t caught up to me when he did—”

  “Caught up to you?” Monica pulled back just far enough to look into her sister’s eyes with confusion. “Wasn’t he with you the whole time?”

  “Didn’t they tell you?” Julia hopped the last two feet to the nearest chair and supported herself by holding on to the back. “I snuck out without a guard.”

  Monica threw her hands into the air and began questioning her little sister’s intelligence just as she had when they were kids.

  Julia watched in disbelief. Monica clearly hadn’t been informed of that little detail, though from her protests now,
she made it clear she knew the rest of the events of the night before.

  Linus hadn’t told her that Julia had snuck out? Julia felt her heart warm a little more for the thoughtful guard, who’d tried to protect her from her older sister’s judgment, even at the risk of drawing blame himself.

  “It’s okay,” Julia rushed to assure her sister. “I’m okay. It’s over.”

  “It’s not over.” Monica certainly looked upset, which only made Julia feel that much worse. She’d come to Lydia to ease her sister’s stress levels, not increase them. “They haven’t caught the man who attacked you. All they have is a shoe print.”

  “Shoe print?” It was the first Julia had heard of it.

  “Yes,” Paul explained, “they made a cast. Now they’re trying to match the sole design to determine what kind of shoe it was.”

  “They can do that?” Julia was impressed.

  “They can try. So far it doesn’t match any shoes sold here in Lydia.”

  Though Paul spoke with a casual air, Julia felt his words like a punch to the stomach. If her attacker’s shoes hadn’t come from Lydia, then maybe the man hadn’t come from Lydia, either. It confirmed her fear that her attacker had followed her all the way from Seattle. She didn’t like the implications of that possibility.

  Monica squeezed her hand. “I know I said we’d go out today and see the sights, but under the circumstances—”

  “I’ll stay at the palace,” Julia quickly assured her. “There’s plenty to see and do right here within the safety of the palace gates.” Though she hated missing out on the plans she’d made with her sister, Julia couldn’t allow Monica to go out with her. What if something happened? The attack the night before had already upset the new queen enough.

  “Thank you.” Monica patted her hand, then stood. “I told Peter that we need to come up with some safe activities. I think he’s plotting something with his father involving the back lawn and a garden hose. I should check on them.”