The Princess's Forbidden Lover

by Clare Connelly

  “Everything looks different from a limo,” he hazarded, turning down yet another street.

  Lilah heard his off-handed condemnation and again wondered at the cause of it. “When I come to America, my work tends to be centred around the embassy. Occasionally I am in DC.”

  He gripped the steering wheel a little tighter but didn’t allow his mind to dwell on the notion of Washington. “Do you come over here often?”

  Lilah shook her head. “Not so often as I’d like. Ki is strangely wary of the influence America might have on me.”

  “He’s traditional,” Will supplied.

  “It’s more than that.” She swallowed. “Are we off the record?”

  His laugh was a disbelieving grunt. “I’ve just forced you to climb off the balcony of a high rise. I think we’re a little past worrying about the record.”

  Lilah bit on her lip. “You didn’t force me.” Her brows knitted together. “And I am right to be wary. It is important to my brother that the story of his marriage to Melania be told properly.”

  “We’re off the record,” he promised.

  “Will …” she swallowed. The urge to confide had come out of nowhere. But why? What about this stranger engendered such a level of trust. “Never mind.”

  “Suit yourself.” He flicked the car down a narrow street and pulled up out the front of number eighty six. Will didn’t need the number though to know which house he was after. God knew he’d been there enough times over the years.

  “Stay here.”

  Lilah’s eyes were enormous in her face. In her whole life, she’d never been spoken to so abruptly. “Would simple manners absolutely kill you to use?”

  He shook his head with a rueful expression on his face. “Don’t use your phone. They’ll be tracking it. In fact, give it to me.”

  “My phone?” She pulled a face. “I didn’t exactly bring my bag with me.”

  “Good. So it’s in the hotel?”

  “Yes.”

  He nodded. “Don’t move.”

  She lifted her fingers to her forehead in a mock salute. She’d seen the gesture in enough movies to be able to imitate it perfectly.

  Will slammed the door a little too forcefully and then strode onto the front lawn.

  “Harry?” He called, before taking the porch steps two at a time. “You here?”

  “Eh?” The noise from inside was soft, but footsteps on creaking floorboards heralded the approach of the man who owned it. Sergeant First Class Harry Lenardo squinted a little, trying to make out who was beyond the door. Then, his face beetled into an enormous grin.

  “Will. Watcha doin’ out there like a stranger? Come on in.” He pushed the door out, extending a hand simultaneously. Will shook it enthusiastically. “You’ll have a beer?”

  Will was on the brink of saying no, when the wall of sadness that surrounded them flared up. “I’ve only got a minute,” he said honestly. “But I’ll take one for the road.”

  “So short? What’s the rush?”

  “It’s a long story and believe me, the less you know the better.”

  Harry cackled. “There’s my boy. Always up to something exciting.”

  “Yeah, believe me, this is excitement I could live without.”

  Harry was a large man. Tall and strong, almost as strong as the day Will had met him eighteen years earlier. But he walked with a limp now, and his face was considerably more lined than the last time they’d seen each other. Then again, that had been the Christmas before. Almost a year ago.

  Guilt was a weight on his soul. He should have made more of an effort. “How’ve you been keeping?”

  “You know.” He shrugged, not pausing to turn and face Will. Will was glad. He couldn’t see the grief on Harry’s face without experiencing a corresponding surge of the same emotion.

  “Lights okay?”

  “Since when?” Will laughed, watching as Harry fished two bottles out of the fridge. Over the top of his fuzzed head, Will could make out row after row of beer as well as a few opened tins of baked beans.

  “Doc’s orders.” He pushed a bottle over, his bushy grey brows raised heavenward. “I told him I was too old to start thinkin’ of my heart and so on, but somehow I ended up buying these things anyway.”

  “Bet they taste just the same.”

  “Yeah.” He cracked the top off his bottle and propped a hip against the kitchen bench. “So what brings you through Jersey?”

  “I need a favour.”

  “Well, well, I’ll be damned, boy. All these years and I don’t think you’ve ever asked me for a thing.”

  Except Maddie. The words were a heavy accusation they both ignored.

  “I wouldn’t have come here, but it’s important.”

  Harry pushed his brows together. “You’re always welcome, Will.”

  Will swallowed. Damned tears cloyed at the back of his throat. He made a gruff sound and popped the top off his own beer. “Thanks.” He swallowed the foaming top, waiting for his emotions to get back in order.

  “So? What is it? You said you’ve only got a minute and …”

  “Hell-loo-ooo?” Her voice was like a whistle in the home. Will cringed, and shot Harry an apologetic look.

  “You’ve got a young lady friend with you?” Harry prompted, his smile genuine seeming.

  “God, no. She’s …”

  Lilah walked into the kitchen at that moment, and Will sucked in a deep breath, as if seeing her for the first time. And he was, in a sense. He regarded her as Harry must have been. From the tip of her gleaming chestnut brown hair to her perfectly made up face, immaculate cream pant suit and stiletto heels (had she been wearing them all along?), Jalilah Mazroui was the picture of elegant regality.

  “I told you to wait in the car.” His words were harsher than intended, but Lilah didn’t react.

  “Hello, sir. How do you do?”

  Harry cackled. “What kind of trouble are you in, Will?” Harry kept his eyes trained on Lilah as though she might turn into a two-headed snake at any moment.

  “It’s really better for you not to know,” Will muttered, draining half of his beer. Lilah watched the gesture with fascination.

  “He’s kidnapped me,” she said, her accent spicy and mysterious.

  “Has he indeed? I suppose he thought it was necessary.”

  “He dangled me off the side of a high-rise,” she added, her lips twitching with suppressed amusement.

  “He’s always been that way inclined.”

  “Yes, I’m sure,” Lilah nodded sympathetically. “He’s making up the most atrocious lies about my staff, too.”

  “Such as?” Harry prompted, lifting another beer from the fridge and undoing the top. He handed it to Lilah.

  Will was about to tell Harry to save his drinks when Lilah surprised them both by sipping it. She pulled a face of distaste then cringed. “Such as my staff being in some elaborate plot to kill me.”

  Will finished his drink then placed the bottle heavily onto the kitchen bench. He tried not to think of Maddie, and the number of times they’d eaten her spaghetti at this counter.

  “Who’d wanna kill you?” Harry said simply.

  “My point exactly,” Lilah propped her hand on her hip. “He’s obviously made the whole thing up.”

  “You know,” Harry wiped his hands on a nearby towel. “Will’s not one for exaggeration.”

  “He isn’t?” She was still smiling, and she took another sip of the beer.

  “If he’s worried, I’d take it seriously.”

  Lilah’s expression didn’t show any change. It was as though she still had no appreciation for the danger she was in.

  “He’s a journalist. Aren’t they natural-born story-tellers?”

  Harry cackled loudly. “I like her. She tells it how it is.”

  Will drank from his beer. “She tells it how she sees it. That’s not the same thing.”

  Harry rubbed a hand over his jaw. “No.” He switched his attention to Jalilah.
“Will’s a good man. A soldier more than a journalist. If he thinks there’s a problem, I’d suggest you listen, honey.”

  “A soldier?” She blinked over at Will. “You didn’t say.”

  “I never enlisted, thanks to Harry,” he picked up his empty bottle and Harry’s too, carrying them both to the recycling tub. “And we really have to be going.”

  “I’m Harry Lenardo,” the older man said, ignoring Will’s attempt at escape.

  “Pleasure to meet you. I’m …”

  “Someone you can’t know,” Will interrupted.

  “You haven’t really kidnapped me. My brother told me to follow you to the ends of the earth remember.”

  “And you always do what your brother says?” Harry prompted curiously.

  “I have to,” Lilah smiled. “He’s …”

  “Harry?” Will turned his back on Lilah, his face a mask of pleading. “For the love of God, don’t let her give you her life story. The last thing any of us needs is for the FBI to turn up here pumping you for info.”

  “The FBI?” Harry laughed. “I guess you never did do nothing by halves.”

  Will didn’t smile. “Yeah, I guess not. I need a car. And I need you to stash mine somewhere.”

  Harry pursed his lips, making a whistling noise as he thought about Will’s request. “Take my car. And I’ll put yours undercover. Do you need anything else?”

  “Yeah. Mind if I raid your pantry?”

  “Help yourself, son.”

  Lilah watched as Will crossed to a timber veneer door and creaked it open. “I’m Jalilah Mazroui,” she said as soon as Will’s head was tucked inside.

  “Lilah,” he called from the darkness. “What the hell do you think …”

  “He’s just paranoid because kidnapping me will probably get him thrown in prison for life …”

  Harry laughed. “You’re the princess from Delani?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, if you are in trouble then there’s no one better than Will to keep you safe.”

  In the confines of Harry’s pantry, Will felt panic bead sweat across his forehead. Harry was being polite, and he was being kind. They both knew that Will had failed to keep the most special woman in the world alive.

  He thrust the last few tins of beans into a bag, along with some chocolate, a bottle of wine and a couple of jars of preserved fruit then shouldered his way out.

  “Now that our anonymity is completely blown, it’s time to go.” He shot an apologetic look at Harry. “You’re okay with the truck?”

  “Yeah. I’ll do it now.”

  “And Harry?”

  “I know, I know.” He lifted his hands in front of him. “You were never here.”

  “Right.”

  “Thank you for the drink,” Lilah’s tone was regal once more, her expression shuttered. She placed the beer onto the counter and smiled at Harry.

  “Listen,” he put a hand lightly on Lilah’s shoulder, surprising himself with the gesture. “Will is … a good man. There’s no one I’d want with me more in a crisis. Try to listen to him.”

  She nodded politely. “I’ve heard this once today.”

  “Then it must be true,” Will drawled, putting a hand on Lilah’s back to urge her to bid Harry farewell. “We have to go. Time, remember, is not on our side.”

  “Of course.” She nodded and stepped out of the kitchen, moving confidently through the home. She didn’t appear to notice the faded carpet and peeling wall-paper. She stepped onto the porch and sighed at the sight of the full moon against the bleak, leaden sky.

  “This way.” Will walked ahead of her, carrying two bags of groceries as though they weighed nothing.

  “Can I help?”

  His expression was condemnatory. “Yeah. You can help. You can help by staying in the damn car when I tell you to stay in the damn car.”

  She bit down on her lip. A pin-prick of profound sadness ran beneath her flesh. She ignored it because she didn’t want to succumb to its weakening power, but his words had made her feel as though she’d done something terribly, terribly wrong. “You are a real stick in the mud.”

  “That may be so, but I’m also responsible for keeping you alive so stop challenging me.”

  She pulled on the handle to the car before he could, remembering his smart remark outside the hotel. To her chagrin the door didn’t open. She pulled on it again, frowning in confusion as she lifted her eyes to his face.

  “It’s not unlocked, princess,” he drawled, flicking a button so that the headlights of the car glowed. “Try again.”

  She pulled on it a third time and now the door groaned outwards. Lilah felt a nail snap but she didn’t mutter the curse that came to mind. Instead, she swished herself into the car and buckled up.

  Lilah stared at the moon as he reversed the car. He swung it out of the drive and pointed it in the direction they’d come from only minutes earlier. Harry was already moving Will’s car and Will lifted a hand in farewell as they passed him.

  “He’s a nice man.”

  “Yeah.”

  “How do you know him?”

  Will changed gears as they neared the highway. “He was an army recruiter ‘round these parts. All the kids like me knew him.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yeah.”

  “What do you mean, kids like me?”

  “Army kids.”

  Lilah nodded, though she didn’t understand. “Do you mean you wanted to be in the army?”

  “Sure.”

  She pursed her lips. “Yet you didn’t enlist?”

  “No.”

  “I …” He shook his head. “It’s complicated.”

  “Correct me if I’m wrong, but don’t we have some time stuck in a car together?”

  He expelled a sigh. “Why do I feel like I’m going to regret this rescue mission?”

  “I don’t know. And besides, what’s done is done. So tell me about your abortive army career.”

  His smile was perfunctory. “He wouldn’t enlist me.”

  She frowned. “I don’t really understand the way your military works. I thought it was the job of an enlister…”

  “It is,” he grimaced. “Harry was different.”

  “Do you wish you’d served?”

  “No.” He floored the engine to push it up to speed on the highway. “Harry told me there were other ways to serve. And he was right.”

  “By being a journalist?”

  He shifted his steely gaze to her. In the glow of the moonlight, she felt goosebumps dance along her flesh. “I made the wars I covered a reality for anyone and everyone. People in their living rooms knew about atrocities and unspeakable acts because I was there to report on them.”

  Lilah had a thousand and one questions firing through her brain, but she was also inexplicably weary. She pushed her head back against the seat and stared at the passing streetscape. “Where are we going now?”

  “Somewhere no one will ever find us.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Even when he cut the engine, Lilah didn’t stir.

  Will pulled the keys from the dashboard quietly, careful not to clink them together as he normally would. He held them tight in his palm.

  The cabin loomed before them, only-partially illuminated by a sliver of moonlight that had made its way through the canopy of pine trees.

  It was just as it had been described.

  Logs that had been halved to make a simple rectangular-shaped building with a roof made out of old tin. A porch that wrapped around three sides had four steps to reach it: Will knew the third would be loose because he’d been told again and again about the way it caught unsuspecting guests off guard and made everyone else laugh.

  There were the pot plants around the side, though it was too dark to tell if they were blooming or not. And though the house boasted a stone chimney, the fire definitely wasn’t smoking.

  He shifted his focus to the woman asleep beside him and his lips couldn’t help but lift in a sardon
ic smile of appreciation. Even in sleep she looked so … regal. She was a princess through and through. Her hands were clasped neatly in her lap and her outfit was barely wrinkled, despite the fact she’d flung herself off a building and then sat in a car for hours. She was immaculate.

  He expelled a soft sigh and reached for his phone. He tapped out a quick message to Kiral. Safe. Going off-line now.

  He waited until it had cleared out of his phone and then switched his device off, thrusting it heavily into the glove compartment.

  With one last look at Sleeping Beauty, he pushed out of the car and walked over frost-hardened ground to the cabin. Ice was in the air he breathed. Snow would fall soon, he was sure of it. He rubbed his hands together and took the steps, skipping over the loose board. The key, he knew from numerous tales, hung beneath a Home is Where the Heart Is framed cross-stitch next to the door.

  As he lifted it off the wall, a huge black spider leaped from behind the frame, crawling with gusto along the timber walls.

  “Princess will love that,” he said under his breath, unhooking the key and sliding it into the door. Both the key and door seemed to have been made hundreds of years earlier, but together it was as good a match as the day they were cast. The door sprung open easily.

  The moon was only just bright enough to shine a soft glow through the single room cabin. He reached inside and flicked the light switch. The cabin stayed dark. He hit it again, but the light didn’t turn on. With only the moonlight to guide him, Will felt his way into the kitchen and pulled open drawers until he found a box of matches. He struck one, and by the light of its flaming golden glow he saw a candle wedged into the neck of a wine bottle. He lit it, then located a dozen more scattered over the kitchen.

  Once he’d given flame to them all, there was an eerie warmth in the place. He crossed the floor and crouched down before the fireplace. It was dusty as a donut and he had no idea how clear the chimney was. That would have to wait for the morning to investigate. No way was he going to risk smoking himself and Jalilah to death because some resourceful bird or rodent had got it into its head to make a nest in the flue.

  The cabin hadn’t been used in a long time. If he hadn’t already known that, he’d have been able to deduce it from the layer of dust that sat over every piece of furniture. Cleaning it was therapeutic.