The Princess and the Bodyguard (2 page)

Because Peter looked so upset, she relented. Smoothing away her anger, she took a step back and folded her hands in front of her. “What letters, please?”

As if surprised to find he still held her, he slowly lowered his hands. His words were quiet and carefully chosen.
“We’ve received threats.”

“Against me?”

A pause. “Yes.”

The very idea seemed ludicrous. Why would anyone want to threaten
her
? “I want to see these letters.”

“Rachel, I shouldn’t. Not without your father’s permission.”

“Then get it. I will come to your office before three. That is when I must leave for a meeting with the building owner to sign the lease for the space for my business.”

She didn’t give him a chance to argue. The sound of his low, steady cursing followed her out of the room.

* * * *

Hannah Jones wondered what in hell she was doing in the backseat of a limousine on her way to the royal palace of Boisdemer.

In the three weeks since she’d arrived in this beautiful Mediterranean country, her life had turned upside down and inside out. First, she’d met the most sinfully sexy man she’d ever known and had dived straight into her first ever affair. Then her daughter, Catharine, had met and fallen in love with a prince of a guy. Literally. Now Catharine and Philip were to marry, which meant her daughter and grandson would be staying in this land across the ocean from home.

Not a bad thing, really. Her daughter was finally as happy as she deserved. The only tricky part was the father of the groom, whom Hanna would soon be face to face with and a guest of was King Alexandre Michel Philippe Artur of Boisdemer. Her lover.

Two weeks had passed since she’d been alone with Alex. Two weeks since she’d learned his real identity. She didn’t know now if she could easily sum up the emotions that had run through her since then. At first, of course, had been fury mixed with hurt.

He’d lied to her.

Nothing mattered more to Hannah than honesty, especially honesty between lovers. Her late husband had dropped casual lies all the time. Oh, he’d never had an affair or done anything bad that one would even think required lying. He simply lied. About little things. About silly things. The habit had driven her crazy. Over the years, it had become just one more thing that had eroded her love for him.

Which was why Alex’s lie by omission hurt her so deeply. She was completely, foolishly in love with the man.

The second reaction she’d had to his prevarication had been humiliation. She thought he’d kept the truth from her because he felt ashamed of her and didn’t want to be seen with her in public. Discovering his identity had made her feel like a closet doxy.

Gradually, though, when news of the engagement and upcoming nuptials had hit the worldwide media, the man had engineered many “photo ops,” ensuring he stood right beside her in every one.

So now, she would soon be his guest. Catharine had begged her to come and stay at the palace, wanting them to spend as much time together as possible before the wedding. Philip had begged her to come, because he loved Catharine beyond all reason and wanted her and his soon-to-be stepson happy.

She didn’t feel right staying at the resort any longer. Although the owner, Marcus
Dallard
, had refused payment for the week she’d already stayed beyond her paid reservation, she couldn’t, in good conscience, accept his generosity for another week.

But the biggest argument weighing in favor of this move came from herself. Hannah missed Alex. She missed the physical part of their relationship, certainly. But for an entire week they had spent nearly every waking minute, and several that were not, together. She loved being with him, loved their easy conversations and occasional disagreements. With him, she felt alive.

Soon, the wedding would be over and it would be time to fly home. She would return to her life, an ocean away from the man she loved. If she had to suffer the rest of her years without him, why not grab this happiness now, while she could?

She wasn’t getting any younger.

The only thing she didn’t really know was how Alex felt about, well, resuming their affair.

The large car slowed, and Hannah had her first glimpse of the palace, tall, regal, and beautiful. Her first impression was of quartz-laden stone interspersed with dozens of gleaming windows. The one turret she could see had a flag atop it, what she’d come to recognize was the Royal Standard. Fittingly, it waved majestically in the breeze, signaling that the king was in residence.

The flag had not flown while Alex had been a guest at the resort registered under the name of Alex Cross.

The car slowed while the gate swung open and, much too soon, rounded the circular drive and glided to a stop under a portico.

A uniformed man opened the door, bowed slightly, and offered a hand to assist her out. When she emerged from the car, the door at the top of the steps opened.

She couldn’t help but smile as Alex hurried down to her.

“I am so glad you’re here. Welcome to my home. Oh, my Hannah, I’ve missed you.”

She felt her eyes begin to tear. “I’ve missed you, too.”

“Come. I’ve arranged for tea. Come.”

He offered his arm and led her up and inside. She felt him trembling. Or was it her? Once inside the doors, he stopped. Another uniformed man bowed very low.

“Hannah, this is Justin, head of our household staff. If you need or want anything, anything at all, you have only to tell Justin and he’ll secure it for you. Won’t you, Justin?”

“Of course, Your Majesty. Welcome, Mrs. Jones.”

Hannah had to beat back the urge to giggle. The man had said welcome, but his sucking-lemons expression said the exact opposite.

“That’s very kind of you, Your Majesty. Thank you, Justin.”

Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Alex actually wince when she’d called him “Your Majesty.”

“Justin, see to it that Mrs. Jones’s things are taken up to the Rose Suite.”

“The Rose Suite, sire?”

“Yes.”

“Very well, Your Majesty.”

Alex escorted Hannah through the grand foyer with its high-domed ceiling and priceless antiques. She leaned closer to him so she could whisper. “Is it my imagination, or is that man
really
unhappy that I’m here?”

Alex chuckled, but there was little humor in it. “Some of the staff are more royal than I am. It’s me he’s unhappy with, love.”

He led her to a room off the central corridor. Inside, her attention focused on the large, sparkling windows and the assortment of musical instruments on display. The piano and harp didn’t surprise her. The drum set did.

“The music room,” Alex said unnecessarily. On one wall stood a large fireplace, and grouped around it a beautiful sitting area. The dark, intricately carved walnut and white brocade furniture seemed oddly familiar. Arranged around a rectangular carpet in hues of pink outlined in blue, with a circlet of roses in the center, the set consisted of two settees flanking a third, slightly larger piece.

Alex noticed her puzzled expression.

“Are you a decorating devotee, Hannah?”

“No. Actually, I’ve never even owned a suite of furniture that matched. But I must have seen something like this in a magazine once. It looks—” She stopped herself because she had been about to insult the man’s furniture.

“No, please. Don’t censor your words to me. You never did before. The furniture looks what?”

Such a note of pleading filled his voice that suddenly Hannah understood something very important. Having believed him to be what he’d portrayed, an ordinary man, she’d been perfectly free and open with him in a way she’d bet few people had ever been in his life.

“Well, I’m sorry, Alex, but that furniture looks uncomfortable.”

She smiled when his laughter, rich and wonderful and
missed,
washed over her.

“Oh, I can guarantee you that it is. My mother adored this arrangement, for she was what I believe could be dubbed a furniture snob.” Then he pitched his voice a little higher, speaking with precise diction. “Yes, yes, of course it’s Louis
Quatorze
. Doesn’t it complement the
Aubusson
well?”

Hannah was still laughing when, after having been seated by Alex, the door opened and a maid pushed a serving cart into the room.

“Leave it, Marie, please. We’ll serve ourselves.”

“As you wish, Your Majesty.”

Alex insisted on pouring the tea himself. In short order, she had a cup of Earl Grey in Wedgwood China. She sipped and felt a little awkward.
How to proceed
?

“Thank you for accepting my invitation to stay here, Hannah.”

“No, thank you for inviting me.”

A look crossed his face, and she knew he’d reached the end of his patience. He set his cup down on the cart, took hers, and placed it there, too. Then he captured her hands and brought them to his lips. He looked at her with such longing, such regret, that she thought she just might cry.

“I’m so sorry, Hannah, for not telling you sooner. Forgive me for being so greedy to want to keep you all to myself. I was afraid. Afraid if I told you the truth, it would change how you felt about me. And I let that fear overcome my best judgment. Please, Hannah, won’t you forgive me?”

Sweat dripped into his eyes and the reverberation of the blows he exploded onto the punching bag rang in his ears. There had been a time, not very long ago, when he would have taken his frustration out on whichever hapless fool ventured too close at the wrong moment. But he’d matured past that stage.
Unfortunately
. So he pounded his mood into the bag, pissed that this time it didn’t seem to be working.

He couldn’t get Rachel’s hurt expression out of his thoughts. Peter stopped the wildly swinging bag and rested his forehead on it. When had his world slipped from his control?

“I have been informed that
la Petite Furie
tracked you down in the solarium earlier.”

Peter looked over at his best friend, Michael, who had come into the gym. “Your sister and I did have a discussion, yes.” Maybe there was some basis for Rachel’s statement that she wasn’t treated like a responsible adult in her own home. Her eldest brother certainly didn’t seem to think her one, if that old nickname, Little Shrew, was any indication.

“I am sorry if she let her temper out on you. She should have come to Father or me, since we are the ones who decided to increase her personal security. She was upset with the new arrangements, I take it?”

Peter watched the man prowl the perimeter of the room. The crown prince tended to do that when preoccupied.

“Upset? You could say that. She thought you’d set her up with me as guard dog because you and Alex believed her to be on drugs again.”

“
Sacre
. Mon
Dieu
,
why
would she think such a thing?”

Peter could have told him that self-esteem was only one of the casualties of previous bad judgment. Instead, he said, “When I’m done here, I have to go see Alex. I thought he’d told her about the letters, so I mentioned them. Now she wants to see them.”

“Papa didn’t want to frighten her, so he decided to simply make it seem a bit of ‘overkill’ in the light of the media spotlight we are all under. But, I don’t know if you’ll be able to meet with him, at least for a little while. Your mother arrived a few minutes ago.”

“Please don’t say any more.” Peter closed his eyes, as if that would shut out the image of his mother and Alex together romantically. “There are some things a man simply doesn’t want to think about his mother doing.” He took off his sparring gloves and headed over to the stack of towels the palace staff kept on hand. Grabbing one, he wiped the sweat from his face.

“Personally, I’m delighted she’s here. The happiness on Papa’s face this morning while he watched the clock waiting for her to arrive is something I never thought to see on him. I like your
Maman,
mon ami
. She is smart and not easily cowed. This is good for a man like my father, I think.”

The mischievous grin on Michael’s face told Peter the other man had called to mind that moment, two weeks before, when Hannah had dumped a bowl of pasta on the king’s head. “You won’t get any arguments from me. Mom’s great.”

“So, since Papa will likely be unavailable, you can tell Rachel you could not get his permission.”

Michael let the sentence hang. Any other time, Peter might have seized on the excuse to avoid exposing Rachel to the ugliness of those letters. Unfortunately, that wasn’t an option, not with her convinced her family didn’t trust her.
He said nothing for a moment, but walked over to the fridge to grab out a bottle of water. He offered one to Michael, who nodded, then deftly caught the small, cold missile.

“Of course, she will likely unleash her temper on you again.” Michael said, twisting the cap off his water.

“That doesn’t bother me. I like her fire.” Strawberry-blonde may have been the proper name for the color of Rachel’s hair, but as far as Peter was concerned, she was pure redhead. Her temper came fast and hot, but always cooled quickly.

“Find a way to tame it and it could keep you warm for a lifetime.”

Michael’s soft-spoken words pulled Peter from his thoughts. “I beg your pardon?”

“You heard me, my friend.”

“Well, hell.”

Michael’s chuckle didn’t sound all that kind to Peter’s ears.

“Do you think I didn’t know how you felt about my baby sister the first time you laid eyes on her? Non, do not fret,” he said when Peter bristled. “Of course, I knew right from the start that, being an honorable man, you would never touch a seventeen-year-old child. But she has been of age for more than a year, and I have been waiting for you, as you English say, to make a move.”