The Princess and the Bodyguard

by Morgan Ashbury

  “I will, huh? Well, we men are shallow creatures. Only interested in a fast lay. Are you expecting me to go against type?”

  “I think I am. You’re too strong a man to allow yourself to be stereotyped.”

  “True. But that first time did go by pretty damn fast.”

  “And you were prepared, which means you’re always walking around with a condom in your wallet,” she agreed, waiting to see what he would say to that.

  “I will have you know, Red, that I’ve been going around with a condom in my wallet since I hit puberty. One of the few things my Dad told me to do that made sense.”

  The look of indignation on his face prompted her to tease him. “Then that must have been one very old condom.”

  “Smart-ass. As it happens, I only put that one there a few days ago.”

  His voice had softened, and Rachel felt her heart turn over. She put her arms around his neck.

  “So I got to you, hmm? Afraid you couldn’t control yourself around me?”

  “Yeah. Hurricane Rachel. You got to me, all right.”

  The touch of his hand on her face felt so loving. She wished she could read the emotion in his eyes. She so very badly wanted to tell him she loved him. Fear of rejection held her back. How could he possibly love her? The mistakes she’d made in her life loomed large in her mind. She hadn’t done anything of value, she hadn’t contributed to the betterment of the people around her in any way at all. Although she liked to say she wasn’t spoiled or pampered, she knew that, really, she was.

  She couldn’t see that she’d done anything to earn Peter’s love. She didn’t know how long it would take to do that, either, but it had become her number one goal in life.

  In the meantime, she had him here, now.

  “I’m glad. I’m very glad you stopped fighting me.”

  “Are you? Even when I tell you I don’t share?” Peter’s arms tightened around her, as if he couldn’t help himself. “I don’t know how long we have together. Maybe this is something that’s going to burn fast and hot, and will be over before we know it. But while we are together, we’re exclusive.”

  She tamped down the automatic spurt of anger. How loose did he think she was? Where had this man been these last two years? Did he not have eyes in his head? She had gone nowhere, seen no one, in all this time. She’d spent her days going to class at the university, then coming home. She made sure to be here at the farm, for the children, almost every time they came.

  If she and Peter had any chance of being a long-term item, and she hoped for a lifetime with him, she’d better find an outlet for the fury he created in her with no effort at all.

  Closing her mind to her temper, she inhaled deeply. “Good. Because I don’t share, either.”

  “And I won’t sneak around.” This time, he narrowed his eyes in challenge, tossing down a gauntlet.

  Did he think that stipulation would put her off? If so, he was sadly mistaken, since that had been one of her own “rules.” Reaching up, she kissed him. “Excellent. That means I don’t have to spend the night without you. My bed or yours?”

  Her easy acceptance wasn’t, she could see, something he’d expected. He blinked once, and then a very possessive look came into his eyes.

  “You’ve had me in yours. Now I want you in mine.”

  Chapter 11

  Fear for Rachel began to gnaw at his belly.

  The investigation had stalled, and Peter had no idea where to turn. He’d felt this way only once before in his life, when Philip had come to him that rainy Monday morning two years before and told him what he’d suspected after speaking to Rachel on the phone. That had been one race against time that, thank God, they had won.

  But this felt like standing guard against a ghost.

  “I am sorry, Peter. But we both knew it unlikely our lab would have any luck.”

  Inspector Claude Dumache sounded uncharacteristically solemn over the phone line. Peter had met Claude in London, when Peter had been working there as a security consultant. They weren’t exactly friends, more like friendly acquaintances, but Peter respected him professionally. After all, Claude had been instrumental in locating the house where Bordeau and Johansson had taken Rachel.

  “Damn it, Claude, I’m at a dead end, here. I can’t help thinking that this is tied to that other business in Geneva.”

  “And we pursued your hunch, mon ami. The commandant of the prison where Bordeau is being held proved most cooperative. He has had no letters from the outside, has sent none, and does not have access to a computer.”

  “And Johansson has been dead for over a year.”

  “Exactly. I took the liberty of looking back over our investigation. Interpol takes a very dim view of those who would kidnap and ransom a princess. At the time, we coordinated the intelligence in the apprehension of several known associates of the two men. No one seemed to be aware of the conspiracy. Neither of our prime suspects had any close family. There had been a party at the house the day before the arrest. But no one knew that Her Highness was in danger. Bordeau had spread word that she liked to party, and everyone believed him. Only when we questioned those students who knew her, after the fact, did we learn the princess had been ardently courted by that bastard, and that since being befriended by him seemed to have changed her behavior.”

  “What you’re telling me is that there is absolutely no evidence that connects this time to that. In fact, there’s no evidence, period.”

  “Yes. Unless you know of anyone who wishes the princess harm. Does she have any enemies? I do presume that you’ve asked her?”

  Peter ran a hand through his hair. “Well, there’s this journalist who didn’t seem too friendly the other day. But other than that, no, there’s no one. Princess Rachel has lived a nearly reclusive life since coming back from Switzerland. The only people she’s mingled with for the most part are the children who come to visit the family farm. And, yes, I’ve even checked out their families.”

  “We will keep doing what we can. We are eliminating people from our watch list, one by one. I wish we could do more to help. I will send you a copy of everything we have, from that last time, and now.”

  Yeah, I wish you could do more, too.

  Peter told the inspector to stay in touch, and hung up the phone. Getting up from his desk, he paced his office. The uncomfortable truth was that until this stalker made another move, Peter’s hands were tied. He and his staff had been doing a good job of keeping the security levels high. Rachel cooperated—a blessing. But there was, essentially, nothing more he, or anyone, could do.

  The thought of someone wanting to hurt Rachel twisted his guts and spiked his temper. He didn’t care for this feeling of helplessness, either. Knowing that he had to wait for the situation to get worse before he could fix it lodged a cold dread in his belly. No one would get anywhere near his woman. That was the warrior in him. The security expert in him knew all the preparations and precautions in the world could never one hundred percent guarantee her safety.

  At least today would be a reasonably safe one. The people about to arrive, both in preparation for tonight’s event and the invited guests, had all been checked out. All were either known to the security staff or had been guests at the palace before. Peter’s team had combed the ballroom for hidden dangers a half hour ago, and they would go over it again just before the commencement of the festivities. All the extra staff Robert had called in had been screened, as had the musicians, the florists, and the decorators, beauticians, aestheticians, and cosmetologists. And once the evening began, he wasn’t letting Rachel out of his sight.

  But several hours loomed between now and then, and Peter knew he was too tense, too on the edge for human company. Turning on his heel, he left his office and headed for the gym. He had to get rid of this edginess before he saw Rachel again. The least he could do, and it sure as hell didn’t feel like much, was keep his fears hidden from her.

  * * * *

  “Oh my.”

 
Hannah understood that three princesses could not go to the neighborhood hair salon to prepare for a formal ball they were hosting. Since she and Catharine were attending the same ball, and staying in the palace, it seemed only reasonable that they join the princesses in having their hair and makeup done here.

  She’d had no idea, though, that she would be pampered quite so thoroughly, or that it would all be, well, such a huge production.

  “This is called the Queen’s Solar,” Sophie said when they entered the large, airy room. The circular room, on the second floor of one of the turrets, featured floor-to-ceiling windows, providing a panoramic view of the city and the harbor below.

  “In the days when no proper lady would sit out on the lawns and sun herself, the queen and her attendants would sit here.”

  “Father had the windows replaced about five years ago,” Rachel chimed in. “So now we have ones that open. I prefer a fresh breeze to air conditioning, myself.”

  Hannah smiled at Rachel and Sophie. “So do I.”

  It wasn’t just the room that spread out, spectacular and breathtaking. The Queen’s Solar had been converted to a full-service spa. She knew the showers and hot tub to be permanent fixtures. Added for the occasion were attendants, all sporting white uniforms, manning reclining chairs and massage tables. She could see chairs with hair dryers, trays with manicure and pedicure tools, and trays with makeup. At three in the afternoon on this bright and beautiful Saturday in August, Hannah understood she was about to experience “me” time like she’d never had in her life.

  Helene, breathless, ran into the room. “Sorry I am late.”

  “You’re not late,” Sophie assured her. “We have only arrived. We haven’t even chosen our first stations, yet.”

  “Then out of my way, please. I need a massage!”

  In short order, they were all being pampered. Hannah sat beside Rachel at the manicure station. Sophie and Catharine relaxed in reclining chairs, having pedicures, and Helene sprawled nearly boneless on one of the massage tables.

  Catharine groaned in delight. “Oh my God, Mom, wait till you get the foot massage!”

  “Enjoy it while you can, honey. From what I hear of the schedule you’ll have come fall, those feet are going to be run ragged.”

  “I know. I’m taking a full-time university program that will make me an RN. The courses will be heavier than I had planned at home, but it’s doable.”

  “I can get some information for you on some of your teachers, if you like,” Rachel offered.

  Hannah had noticed that the two young women had become fast friends. In fact, she was enormously pleased that these three vibrant and worldly princesses had opened their arms, and their hearts, to her daughter. Closing her eyes for a moment, she let the sound of female ritual and female chatter wash over her.

  “You mean, forewarned is forearmed?”

  “Precisely. I don’t think you’ll be taking French Literature, so you won’t have the evil and dreaded Madame Bourgeois. But it would not hurt to know if any of the ones you will get are her cousins in spirit.” Rachel said.

  “Do not make me shiver,” Sophie said, “by mentioning that demon-woman’s name.”

  “Thanks,” Catharine said. “I think I’m going to need all the help I can get.”

  “I don’t think you need much,” Sophie replied quietly. “You seem very capable to me. But I will be glad to help, also. I am looking forward to being an auntie to Jamie. When you are stressed and Philip is at the hospital, you can send him to me.”

  “You’re so good with him, Sophie. You should have a few children of your own.” Catharine’s voice sounded so relaxed, as if she was close to falling asleep.

  “Oh, you’re very kind to say that, Catharine. But I do not think I would make a good mother.”

  “I think you’d make a wonderful mother,” Hannah said, opening her eyes and looking over at Alex’s eldest daughter. “Why ever would you think otherwise?”

  “I am too much like my own maman,” she said quietly. “Everyone has always said it is so.”

  “You’re a warm and loving young woman.” Hannah wondered if Alex knew his daughter felt this way. “I’ve watched you with Jamie. You know how to connect, and you care.”

  Although Sophie thanked her for the compliment, Hannah suspected the younger woman didn’t believe her.

  Catharine groaned again, this time in disbelief rather than pleasure. “I can’t believe that I’m actually getting married in two weeks! My whole life is about to change.”

  “Sweetie, your life changed about a month ago when you met Philip.”

  “Yeah, but I didn’t realize that at the time!”

  Hannah laughed. “Thank goodness. I’ve often thought it appropriate that the major turning points in life are usually disguised as ordinary moments. If you had known how pivotal meeting Philip would turn out to be, you’d have taken off in the opposite direction and missed the chance of a lifetime.”

  “Too true.”

  “But I like to think that, on the whole, things turn out as they’re meant to be,” Hannah said, relaxing while her own technician rubbed lotion into her hands.

  “Any words of advice, Mom? I’ve never been married before, you know.”

  “You don’t need my advice, darling. Just listen to your heart.”

  * * * *

  Rachel absorbed the sound of the motherdaughter conversation. Her sister and sister-in-law also held silent. She wondered if Hannah realized the three of them listened intently. Rachel had never had any close female friends with mothers like Hannah—mothers who loved and hugged, who chided and cajoled all in the same breath. She’d made friends at the private schools she’d attended, but all of the girls, like her, were away from home. Most of their mothers seemed more attuned to their civic responsibilities or their husbands’ careers than their children. And most of those children, she thought now, reflected that emotional neglect.

  “Father says you’re treating us to dinner tomorrow night. What is on the menu?” Rachel’s curiosity had been piqued by her father’s rather insistent request that she attend Hannah’s party.

  “It’s a secret. But I’ll give you a clue tomorrow afternoon.”

  “Why not now?”

  “Because it’s a secret,” Hannah replied with a teasing grin.

  “Give it up, Rachel,” Catharine advised. “Mom never gives away secrets. No matter how hard any of us tried to worm them out of her.”

  “Peter was the worst one for being persistent,” Hannah then told a startled Rachel. “You’ll want to watch that in him. He’s the most bullheaded man I’ve ever known, but he does have a good heart.”

  How does she know about us? Rachel gathered her composure and said, “I had already figured out the stubborn part.” Then she added, “And I, too, believe he has a good heart.”

  The look they exchanged lifted Rachel’s spirits considerably. She already knew she’d found a friend in Catharine. She’d never dreamed she’d find one, as well, in the mother of the man she loved.

  “He also has the irritating habit of trying to take on responsibility for the entire world. And when things go wrong in his world, he blames himself. Often unfairly.”

  “I made some mistakes a couple of years ago,” Rachel said, blushing but determined to tell Hannah the truth about herself. She could see Sophie and Helene watching her. She’d never spoken to anyone in her family about that time in her life. “I ended up in a very bad crowd. I placed all I hold dear at risk, including my life. At first, I thought perhaps Peter was disgusted with me for that. He seemed to put distance between us. But I think, now, that’s not the case.”

  “Everyone makes mistakes, sweetheart. Don’t beat yourself up over them.”

  Rachel felt her eyes fill when Hannah reached over and touched her gently—the way she’d often imagined a mother would.

  “That’s what’s called living,” Hannah continued, her voice gentle, accepting. “None of us is perfect, and frankly, I think
life would be entirely too boring if we were. If I know my son, and I doubt the ten years we’ve been apart have changed him radically, he likely blames himself for whatever happened to you. He would slay all your dragons for you, honey. But he needs to learn how to share the sword.”

  Rachel turned her hand over and felt it clasped in a gesture of love and support. A feeling of contentment began to fill the empty places in her where guilt had lived for so long. The easy acceptance of these two women, one who would soon be her sister, was a gift she never thought to have. She understood all the more why her father seemed so taken with Hannah Jones.

  Chapter 12

  He had never seen anyone as beautiful as his Hannah.

  Alex stood behind her, saying nothing when she’d turned to face the mirror. The women had gathered in the afternoon, and he’d not set eyes on her since lunch. Now she stood as if transfixed, staring at her full-length reflection. The dress she wore, a shiny copper in hue, formed a graceful sheath that caressed her figure and put him in mind of the goddess she’d first appeared to be on that moon-washed beach at the resort. He’d never seen her with her hair swept up, leaving her long, lovely neck temptingly bare. On top of her head glimmered the small tiara he’d had taken from the vault. The adornment had belonged to his Aunt Sophia and was not officially counted among the “royal jewels.” His daughter-in-law, Helene, had been his coconspirator in placing the tiara in the hands of the hair stylist.

  “I can’t get over that it’s me,” she said her eyes meeting his in the mirror. “I look like…”

  “You look like a queen,” he said softly.

  Her face lost its color. Turning, her gaze met his and she shook her head slowly. “But I’m not. This isn’t really me at all. It’s like I’m playing dress-up.”

  Taking her hands in his, he brought them to his lips and kissed them gently. Then he put them together inside his own, for they felt cold and he had a fierce need to warm them—and her.