The Princess and the Bodyguard

by Morgan Ashbury

  “Way cool!”

  Since Jamie was brave enough to dig in, Hannah couldn’t see a way around it herself. The mousse had a delicate flavor. The caviar tasted salty and not to her liking.

  “We will contact Rosemarie. She has the largest dress shop in Cardinia. We will have her come tomorrow, and Hannah can choose something suitable.” Helene’s solution sounded good, and Sophie and Rachel voiced their agreement. Catharine, Hannah knew, had no need of last-minute clothes since she’d been enduring fittings of various gowns for the last week.

  Alex bent an approving eye on Helene and his daughters. “Excellent. See? Now, Helene, you must also see that Hannah has whatever she needs for the other obligations I have on my calendar in the next three weeks.”

  “Alex?” Hannah knew she sounded confused.

  “You’re my guest. It would be, I believe, unpardonably rude for me to leave you behind while I’m out and about. It is only right that you accompany me.” He smiled hugely as he looked around the table. “Now, where’s the main course?”

  Hannah had the peculiar feeling she had just been it.

  * * * *

  That kiss had eaten away at Rachel all afternoon.

  Dinner had been nearly impossible to get through. She’d been painfully conscious of Peter sitting across the table from her, trying to act like he hadn’t kissed her brains out that very afternoon.

  All right, so she’d practically begged him to do it. But that had been no do-it-for-king-and-country kind of kiss he’d laid on her, either. His tongue had been down her throat, he’d pulled her so tight against him that her nipples had stood at attention. She had caught the telltale sign of his erection, despite the excellent cut of his suit.

  And then the rat bastard had had the nerve to apologize?

  Pacing back and forth in her room wasn’t solving anything. Usually, her temper spiked hot and fast, and then fled, leaving her drained and exhausted.

  Today, it had begun as a block of ice that slowly melted, first to a liquid, then turning to pure hot steam.

  Merde! Bad enough when she could only imagine, could only wonder what it would be like to be pressed against that hard body, to taste the heat of him. Now she knew, and now what she craved had substance and shape and a name.

  She’d been aware of him in that special way a woman is aware of a man the moment he came into her life. But she’d only been a child, a confused and lonely seventeen-year-old child too mature in some ways, and far too naïve in others. Of course, he’d been kind to her, but aloof. In the same way most everyone acted aloof to Her Royal Highness. And then, the years had passed and she’d believed that she was being a stupid little girl with a stupid little crush. She’d felt out of step with everything and everyone, and she’d taken a wrong turn.

  Rachel snorted, shaking her head. Taken a wrong turn? No, she’d fucked up. Royally. For a small span of time, she’d felt as if she had friends, as if she meant something to someone. As if she’d mattered. But that, too, in the end, had proved to be a lie.

  While she recovered, going through counseling and licking her wounds, she’d felt a greater distance spread between herself and Peter.

  Until this afternoon, she’d been afraid that distance was too great to be bridged. Until he kissed her, really kissed her, and then he’d dared to apologize!

  She’d never felt this angry before, this poised to strike. Pivoting on her heel, she let her fury carry her to her bedroom door, then beyond. How many times had she walked this path in her dreams? Down the end of the hall, turn right, nearly to the end, last door on the left. Using her fist, she pounded on Peter’s door. It never occurred to her he might have someone—not a lover, of course, but maybe her brother or his mother—in the room with him. She pounded again, all the anger and frustration that had built within her these last years giving her a power, and a nerve, she’d never known.

  “What the hell!”

  He flung the door wide, a menacing scowl on his face. Not giving him a moment to react, she jumped him, wrapping arms and legs around him and fused her mouth to his. For an instant, he didn’t move. A rough groan escaped his throat, her only warning. His control snapped. Then his arms clamped tight around her, his mouth opened, and his tongue melded with hers.

  She felt hot and alive and desired. She nearly, nearly, melted. The engorged ridge of his penis nestled between her legs, pressing against denim and cotton. Instinct rolled her hips forward to caress it.

  Where she found the strength to let him go, to unhook her legs from around his hips, slide down his body and push herself away, she didn’t know. But she did, and she smiled with soul-deep pleasure at seeing him totally off guard.

  “I’m not going to apologize. And no one is warming my sheets for me, you idiot. I’ve been saving that privilege for you!”

  Chapter 6

  “Son of a bitch!”

  Because he wanted to go after her so badly, Peter slammed his bedroom door to shut out temptation. Scrubbing his face with his hands, frustrated, he headed for the bathroom—where he’d been going when hurricane Rachel had pounded on his door. Only now he’d have to have a cold shower instead of a hot one.

  Hot. That word didn’t even come close to describing her. Hot, molten, electrifying. She was all of those and more.

  No one is warming my sheets for me. I’ve been saving that privilege for you.

  Well, hell.

  Resisting Rachel when he’d believed she didn’t even see him as a man, when he thought he didn’t interest her had been hard enough. But now that he knew differently—now that he’d tasted her twice—his life had become monumentally complicated.

  Without thought, he stripped off his clothes, turned on the shower, and stepped under it, barely flinching when the cold water hit his skin. Oh, Rachel might say she wanted him, now. He had no doubt whatsoever that she did, and he’d bet she’d even convinced herself she’d fallen in love with him. But he wasn’t under any illusions. Her desire would wear off.

  They’d be like a comet, burning fast and hot, then out.

  A woman like Rachel deserved better than a junkyard dog like him. He’d been places and done things that would shock the princess down to her pretty pink royal toes. She’d been raised in a palace and had attended exclusive, private schools all her life. Her blood flowed blue as the Danube, and her pedigree could be traced back over centuries.

  He’d told Michael no less than the truth. Rachel should marry an equally pedigreed prince. That was her destiny.

  Icy pellets of water stabbed him, but the chill that slicked over his skin didn’t reach the heat of passion that fired his blood. How the hell was he supposed to be able to sleep?

  He ought to return the favor of a late-night call. And how easy, he mused in frustration, it would be to do exactly that. About a couple hundred steps separated him from what he wanted most in all the world.

  Resting his forehead against the tiled wall, Peter closed his eyes and cursed in every language he knew.

  A few days ago, there’d been no question in his mind that the course he’d chosen for himself—staying away from Her Royal Highness—had been the right, the only, thing to do.

  But his will to be noble seemed to be eroding faster than the soap bubbles spinning down the drain of his shower.

  God help him, he didn’t know how much fight he had left.

  * * * *

  “Don’t move.”

  “No?”

  Alex smiled in response to the teasing tone of Hannah’s question. Reaching around in front of her, he deftly untied the sash that kept her robe closed. “No. I like you in this position.”

  “In this position facing the bed?”

  “Yes.” He pulled the robe from her and ran his hands over her breasts and belly. He would never tire of the feel of her under his hands, and he hoped he would never stop being aroused just being near her. “Facing the bed with your back to me. It occurs to me, my Hannah, that this bed is the right height.”

  “The
right height for what?”

  He loved making her gasp like that, when he dipped his fingers into her wetness and teased her. He caressed her slit. She strained to push her hips backward, to bring his fingers into fuller contact with her sex.

  “The right height for me to take you from behind. Bend over the bed for me, darling.”

  When she complied, he placed a hand on her back, as if he had to hold her there. Then, using his leg, he nudged hers wider. He didn’t remove his own robe, merely opened it. When he pulled the flaps back, his cock sprang free. He rubbed it against the crack in her ass.

  “Alex?”

  “Mmm? Worried, love?”

  “No, only curious. And horny.”

  He chuckled, then groaned in response to the wonderful arousal that coursed through him from rubbing his engorged cock against her ass. How fortunate he had fallen in love with a woman who became a true voluptuary in the bedroom.

  “What do you want, Hannah?”

  “You. Inside me.”

  She moved her bottom against him, and he spread his hands over her ass, then settled them on her hips and squeezed.

  “Inside where?” He reached for the drawer of the bedside table. Before they’d showered, he’d pulled several condoms out of one box, separated them, and laid them on top of the other boxes. He’d put some in the table on the other side of the bed, too. Smiling, he made a quick mental note to carry a few down to his office, just in case. Grabbing one now, he tore open the packet and slipped the sheath on.

  “Do I have a choice?”

  “Do you want one?” He kept up a gentle stroking with his hand. Now he drew his hand back and stroked her opening with his penis.

  “Yes. This time.”

  “All right.” He sighed. “Oh, the possibilities we have to explore together, my Hannah, are very interesting, indeed.” He changed the angle of his thrust, and his cock found its place between the folds of her labia. He smiled, thinking his penis at the door, asking her clit to come out and play.

  “That feels so good.”

  “Mmm, it does, and in a moment I’m going to slide my cock very deep inside your pussy and fuck you long and hard and deep. And fast. If that’s where you want me.”

  “Yes, I want you there. I want to be able to squeeze you.”

  “Then that’s where you shall have me. This time. But Hannah?”

  “Yes?”

  “You make me think of alternatives, and new experiences, and I think I may be one up on other men.”

  “I’ve thought so since the first moment me met.”

  Alex laughed softly. “In this instance, though, I meant the fact that I have an actual dungeon at my disposal.”

  “Oh God. Alex!”

  He caressed her back, then around and under her until he had a breast in each palm. He moved his hips slightly. She was so wet for him he buried himself within her in one smooth move.

  “Squeeze me, then. Ah, yes, like that.”

  “You feel so good inside me. So hot and hard and…I need…” Her voice trailed off to a whimper.

  He was a man used to the vagaries of power, but nothing had ever felt as powerful as knowing he could reduce Hannah to unintelligible groans and whimpers simply by loving her. He kept thrusting, increasing the pace because he couldn’t do otherwise. The sound of flesh slapping flesh mixed with the basic scent of sex took him higher. He knew she neared her orgasm. Deep within, he recognized the stirring of the primitive man. He fought the urge to simply plunder her mercilessly.

  “Come for me, sweetheart. I want to feel you shiver down my length when you come.”

  “Yes!”

  His words hurled them both over the edge. He felt the silken clasp of her sheath tighten and convulse around his penis, and he absorbed the overwhelming pleasure of her increased heat and moisture. Helpless to stop his own eruption, he groaned and held himself deep within her. Briefly, replete, he collapsed against her back, only distantly aware that her heart raced in concert with his.

  “Oh, God.”

  Alex quickly straightened his arms, lifting his weight off Hannah. “Was I too rough?” he asked, placing a kiss against the nape of her neck.

  “No. Never. It keeps getting better.”

  “Well, of course. It’s like my nanny always used to say. Practice makes perfect.”

  The sound of her laughter covered him like a warm, loving caress. It was a sound he’d already found completely addictive.

  * * * *

  Rachel had grown used to eating breakfast alone. Occasionally, Philip would join her, especially if he had an early shift at the hospital. But she generally never saw anyone else for the morning meal.

  Since coming home from Switzerland two years ago, she’d made it her habit to rise early. By six-thirty, she’d already spent a half hour in the gym, completed a brisk fifteen-minute swim, and was showered, dressed, ready for the day. Until recently, the challenge had been filling the rest of the day after breakfast.

  “Will you have your usual, Your Highness?”

  Rachel smiled up at Marie, one of several people who worked under Robert, the head chef, who poured her a large glass of orange juice.

  “Yes, please. I’ve looked over your cousin’s resume. I thought I’d let you know that I’ve selected her to move on to the next step. I should be scheduling an interview with her in the next few days.”

  “Thank you, Your Highness. My aunt will be so pleased to hear that! Dagmar has been having a hard time finding her place in life. But recently, it’s been like she’s a new woman, entirely. She became so very excited when she heard there might be a possibility of working for you. She went through some pretty wild times a few years back, but they are behind her now.”

  Rachel could well sympathize. She knew what it was like to go through wild times and come out on the other side a changed woman.

  “Tell your aunt that if all goes well, I’ll likely hire her to work in my shop.”

  “A designer label from Boisdemer. It is exciting, no?”

  “It is exciting, yes.”

  Marie curtsied slightly then left to get Rachel’s usual breakfast—yogurt, a bran muffin, and coffee. Rachel spread her napkin on her lap and waited for the younger woman to return.

  Although she sat with her back to the solarium’s door, she knew the instant Peter entered the room.

  “You’re up early,” he said. He moved around the table, choosing to sit where he had the evening before, right across from her. Looking at him, it wasn’t obvious he’d had his tongue down her throat and his hardening cock pressed against her only a few short hours ago. For an instant, heat flared in his eyes, but he blinked, and it disappeared. Maybe he wasn’t so indifferent, after all.

  Rachel kept her smile to herself when he frowned. “Actually, I’m not. I’m usually here at this time of the morning. I can’t say I’ve ever run into you, though.”

  She wondered what he was thinking. She was tired of this man throwing her off balance all the time. Perhaps two could play that game.

  “I’ll have those prospective employee files on your desk by eight. In each case, the references have been verified. But I’ve not taken the next step of calling anyone in for an interview. I’ll wait until you’ve weeded out the potential stalkers, terrorists, and rabble-rousers.”

  Rachel watched with interest as Peter’s hand, until now resting calmly on the table beside his place setting, pressed so hard against the cloth-covered surface that his knuckles whitened. “This isn’t something you should be taking lightly, Rachel,” he said tightly. “This is a serious situation. I don’t think these threats against you are a joke.”

  Marie entered, carrying a tray, and Rachel swallowed back her retort.

  “Oh, Mr. Jones,” the maid said, pausing before deftly settling Rachel’s breakfast in front of her. “I didn’t know you’d arrived.”

  “I’m in no hurry, Marie.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  Rachel picked up her spoon to attack he
r yogurt first. Marie poured coffee in her cup, then carried the pot around the table to fill Peter’s.

  “Bacon or sausage this morning, sir?”

  “Sausage, thanks.”

  “You’re going to give yourself a heart attack eating greasy meat every morning,” Rachel said, unable to resist the urge to tease him.

  “Bite your tongue. If Robert hears you refer to his five-star cuisine as greasy, he’ll have a fit.”

  “Since you’re the only one in the household he cooks meat and eggs for every morning, I think he might agree with me. And I’m not taking the threat against me lightly, at all. I’ve been the soul of cooperation.”

  “You know, Your Highness, a woman goes banging on a man’s bedroom door late at night, she’s taking her reputation in her hands. She can never know what might happen to her.”

  Rachel had been ready for the non sequitur, but she felt a shiver run down her spine, regardless. His eyes and his tone both promised sensual delights, but she understood the warning he implied. She also knew he was fighting his attraction to her with Herculean effort. That, she couldn’t understand. What red-blooded, healthy, hetero man would refuse what she offered? She knew she wasn’t ugly. Maybe he wasn’t really hetero.

  “Are you gay?”

  “No, I’m not gay.”

  “Well, good. That would have thrown a spanner into the works, as you English say.”

  “I’m not English, I’m Canadian.”

  “Same thing.” Oh, it was hard not to smile when Peter gritted his teeth and came close to losing his cool. She set aside her yogurt and picked up her muffin. Downing the last of her coffee, she made the decision to sacrifice the rest of her breakfast time in favor of a strategic withdrawal. The scene only needed a final, parting shot.

  Tilting her head in what she hoped was a coquettish pose, she said, “You’re right, though. You can never know what might happen. Especially since I’ve decided that I’m not so much a woman of the new millennium as I had hoped. Who knew I could be old-fashioned? Anyway, darling, the next move is yours. But please, don’t wait too long. Wanting, and doing without, is painful. For both of us. And in this case, the pain is completely unnecessary.”