“I’m afraid that it will be quite a squeeze for our feet, Miss Royal,” he said apologetically. “I don’t have enough rope to secure your luggage to the back.”
“That’s quite all right,” she answered, and he could hear the relief in her tone. “Anything is better than carrying them.”
Jacob turned back toward her and his heart flipped, taking him by surprise.
She looked completely exhausted.
Without any real conscious thought, he stepped forward and swept her into his arms.
Princess Harriet’s gasp of shock had no effect on him.
Nor did her outraged protests.
When her arms wrapped around his neck to balance herself, however, he found himself more than a little affected.
And even though her eyes were shooting daggers at him and loathing was coming off her in waves, he couldn’t seem to tamp down the flame of desire licking along his veins.
“Unhand me, you brute,” she bit out, her hands clasping his greatcoat in a vicelike grip. “How dare you pick me up without permission? Without warning.”
Jacob ignored her ramblings and deposited her none-too-gently in the seat of the gig.
A part of him might find her desirable, but the rest of him had the sense to just find her irritating.
Sending a prayer heavenward for patience, Jacob climbed into the carriage beside her, taking the reins and offering a conciliatory smile.
“Shall we?” he asked.
Princess Harriet eyed him, singularly unimpressed with his attempts to charm.
“I suppose we must,” she sniffed and turned her face away before she could see his scowl.
This was going to be a long journey.
Harriet wanted to weep with the relief of sitting down, resting her feet, and having her bags transported for her.
She wouldn’t show it, however.
She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing he’d rescued her from a serious predicament.
Harriet had no idea why he affected her so. And she didn’t care to find out.
All she knew was that she felt constantly discomfited in his company.
That he’d embarrassed, and infuriated, and annoyed her more in the last twenty-four hours than anyone in her life before.
And that, to her shame and confusion, when he’d lifted her into his arms as though she weighed no more than a feather, her stomach had twisted with the most alarming bolt of desire, and it had been all Harriet could do to stop herself from pressing her lips to his own.
Which was decidedly not what she should be feeling.
“Are you hungry, Miss Royal?”
The softly spoken question interrupted Harriet’s confusing thoughts, and as though reminded by his question, her stomach rumbled.
Harriet’s cheeks flushed as he grinned then leaned over one of the bags that had been squashed into the seat between them. The other was at Harriet’s feet. Not entirely comfortable, but she wasn’t about to complain when the alternative had been walking and carrying it.
“Here, I did notice you didn’t break your fast.”
She looked down to see a bundle wrapped in a clean, linen cloth.
“It’s not much,” he said. “But it will stop you from swooning on me.”
Harriet snorted in a most unladylike fashion even as she took the bundle from his hands.
“I don’t swoon,” she answered. “And I can’t imagine someone like you having a problem with a lady swooning at his feet, in any case.”
“Someone like me,” he repeated with a small smile. “You have me all figured out, hmm? Well, you’re not wrong. I enjoy a good swoon as much as the next red-blooded male.”
Harriet rolled her eyes and opened the bundle, almost crying at the sight of freshly baked bread and a lump of cheese. There was even a ripe plum, which would help quench her thirst. He was resourceful, she admitted grudgingly to herself. And thoughtful, too.
“But when a lady swoons over me, I’d much rather it be because of my devilish good looks and charm. Not because she’s unconscious from hunger.”
“You have an extremely high opinion of yourself, Mr. Lauer. Has anyone ever told you that?”
“Frequently.” He grinned unabashedly, and Harriet had to bite the inside of her mouth to keep from laughing. She refused to encourage him. “But you’re the only one who’s ever made me feel as though it was undeserved.”
This time she couldn’t hold in her giggle. He was incorrigible.
And he had rescued her, she admitted. More than once.
“Thank you,” she said softly. “For the food and – and everything else.”
His piercing blue eyes softened as they raked over her face, and Harriet’s throat tightened, though she couldn’t have said why.
“You’re welcome,” he said softly, sincerely.
And they lapsed into a silence that felt more comfortable than it should.
Chapter Ten
“As I said before, Mr. Lauer, I thank you for your offer, but it really isn’t necessary.”
Jacob was rather impressed with himself that he could understand every word she spoke through teeth as gritted as hers currently were.
They’d been arguing for almost an hour now, and if she didn’t start cooperating, it would be pitch black before he got her to see any sense.
He thought longingly of the time he’d been captured in Berlin and had to endure beatings and interrogations for three weeks before he and Hans had escaped.
At the time, he’d thought that a terrible situation to be in. He’d kill for the dank, dark cell and a bit of physical torture right now. It had been a veritable holiday compared to arguing with the little hoyden in front of him.
“You said you’d just drop me where I wanted to go,” Princess Harriet continued, glaring at him.
“And you said somebody would be meeting you here,” he pointed out reasonably. Here being a two-mile walk from the gates of the Winter Palace. This was nothing more than a densely populated forest.
Surely the girl didn’t mean to camp out!
Princess Harriet threw her hands in the air as if he were the one being bloody impossible.
What he wanted was for her to trust him enough to tell him where she planned to go, and what she planned to do.
He’d hoped that feeding her would improve her mood, and he supposed it had. Somewhat.
But damn it all, she was right back to being a recalcitrant little shrew.
“Well, I lied,” she bit out defiantly. “There is nobody coming to meet me. I am travelling onward alone.”
Jacob couldn’t be sure if her admission was progress or not.
One thing he was absolutely sure about however was that she was going nowhere alone.
“Then let me help you,” he said for the hundredth time.
“No,” she answered mutinously for the hundredth time.
And so, they stood here at in impasse glaring at each other like combatants across a battlefield.
“Why are you alone?” he suddenly blurted, hoping that she’d be honest now that she was shouting the truth at him.
She rolled her eyes heavenward, quite clearly fed up of him.
Heaving a sigh, her big, brown gaze met his own and his heart stuttered.
He didn’t have time to be distracted by her beauty.
He didn’t have a damned clue what to do with the surge of intense emotion that look from those eyes inspired. Something he’d never experienced before—a confusing mix of desire and protectiveness.
Whatever it was, it had no place here.
“I needed a break from – from my family. My life.”
He noticed immediately that she’d slipped up. Back at the inn, she’d claimed her family was dead. Further proof that she was a terrible liar. His frown of confusion was genuine.
What could a Crown Princess want a break from? She lived a gilded existence. Spoiled by her brothers and parents, adored by her subjects, admired by dignitaries and aristocrats the wor
ld over.
“They are alive then, your family?” he asked, and watched her eyes widen in dismay as she obviously realised she’d been caught out.
Her sigh sounded as though it came from the depths of her soul.
“Yes, they’re alive,” she mumbled.
“Do they—” he began, not sure how to phrase a question he really didn’t want to ask. “Are they cruel?” Prince Christopher didn’t seem as though he would hurt his sister, but Jacob supposed one never knew what happened behind closed doors.
If anyone, royal or otherwise, abused her in some way, that changed things. He wouldn’t bring her back to a bad situation—ordered to or not.
But to his relief, she was already shaking her head in denial.
“No, they’re not cruel. Just – just protective,” she hedged. “My family are – well, powerful you might say.”
Yes, you might, he agreed silently. Considering they were the royal bloody family.
“And they mean well. But—” She shrugged helplessly. “My brother wants to send me away to England. And I don’t want to go.”
“Send you away?” he repeated. “Why?”
Jacob couldn’t have said why this news displeased him so. Only that it did. He’d known that the princess was being sent with the Furbergs before she’d run. But not that she was being sent from Aldonia.
“It doesn’t matter why. All that matters is that I don’t want to go. And I don’t want him making all of my decisions anymore.”
She studied his face as though looking for a reaction, and because he didn’t know what she was looking for or what might send her storming off into the forest, he kept his expression smooth.
After a while she sighed again.
“It sounds ridiculous,” she muttered. “But my whole life I’ve never been able to go anywhere by myself, decide anything for myself, and when Christo—I mean, my brother—wanted to send me away, I thought maybe, just this once, I could strike out on my own.”
Her shoulders slumped, and Jacob felt that odd protectiveness once more.
“I didn’t even make it past the first day without help.”
She sounded so despondent, so desolate, that Jacob’s heart twisted.
“I don’t know about that, Miss Royal. There isn’t a single lady of my acquaintance that would have the courage to do what you’ve done.”
He watched in fascination as a pink blush crept into her cheeks and she smiled up at him.
“And I’m sure,” he continued, noting the sudden gruffness in his tone, “that had I left you to your own devices, you would have found a way to manage perfectly well without my interference.”
Her smile widened, those sinful eyes sparkling with pleasure, and Jacob felt a burst of pride that he’d made her smile in such difficult circumstances.
Perhaps, he thought hopefully, she was ready to return home. Now that someone had acknowledged her bravery, now that she’d proven she could do it—or at least thought she could do it—she’d return to safety.
“Thank you, Mr. Lauer,” she said softly, and it was all Jacob could do to keep from reaching out to her.
It was getting harder and harder to remember that the princess was off limits.
“Now that you’ve proven you can do it, perhaps you’d like to go home?” he blurted, more harshly than he’d intended.
The second the words were out of his mouth, Jacob knew they’d been a mistake.
Her eyes hardened, her shoulders stiffened, and that defiant chin of hers notched up.
“I don’t think so, Mr. Lauer,” she answered glacially. “If you’ll excuse me?”
He watched in amazement as she bent down, heaved up both of her silly, oversized bags, teetered around a bit under their weight, then righted herself and began to stagger off.
Jacob prayed for patience. And when that didn’t work, he cursed fluently in five languages then set off chasing after the runaway princess. Again.
Harriet fumed her way through the forest, not even paying attention to where she was going.
For a moment—a brief, wonderful moment, she had felt as though someone understood her. She thought that perhaps Mr. Lauer understood her need for a sense of freedom. Freedom from the strictures of her life. Freedom to make her own path, even temporarily.
There’d been something in his piercing blue eyes—a sense of affinity. But no, she was wrong. He was just another man who’d barrelled into life and wanted to control what she did. At least Christopher, Alexander, and her father were related to her. This oversized, overbearing, overly handsome man was a practical stranger.
“Miss Royal.”
Harriet rolled her eyes. And he was harder to shake than the royal bloody guard.
“What?” she bit out over her shoulder. She knew she resembled a toddler having a tantrum, but she couldn’t help it.
“You’re going to do yourself an injury.”
“Well it will be my injury then,” she shouted back churlishly. “And my business.”
“Please, Miss Royal. I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”
Harriet swung back around to glare at him as he came stomping through the trees toward her.
“Get it through your thick skull, Mr. Lauer—” She enunciated every syllable so there’d be no confusion. “I am not a child. And I will not hurt myself.”
Hoping that finally her point had gotten across, Harriet turned back around and marched away.
Straight into the branch of a tree.
She heard an exclamation from behind her as the world tilted alarmingly.
And then, darkness descended.
Jacob darted through the trees, but he knew he wouldn’t get to Princess Harriet in time.
He winced as her body crumpled to the forest floor.
The fear and concern that burst through him was palpable. And not just because the Crown Princess had managed to knock herself unconscious on his watch.
No, Jacob could be honest enough to admit that something in the vicinity of his heart lurched alarmingly as he heard the crack of her skull on the branch and watched helplessly as she fell.
Damn it, why did he have to rile her so? Why couldn’t he keep his stupid mouth shut?
She was hurt.
Hurt because of him.
Jacob reached her prone body and dropped to his knees on the damp forest floor.
His heart thundered and his hands shook as he reached out to remove the ridiculous bonnet from her head.
The sight of a trickle of blood oozing beneath one of her chestnut curls nearly had Jacob casting up his accounts.
He’d had to treat his own gunshot wounds, sword injuries, even popped his own dislocated bones back into place a time or two.
Never had he felt as sick or heartsore as watching the princess’s blood mar her beautiful face. And all because of him.
If Prince Christopher didn’t kill him, his guilt would probably do the job.
Jacob reached out an unsteady hand and brushed the hair back from the princess’s face.
Her groan of protest was the sweetest sound he’d ever heard.
As he watched closely, she slowly opened her eyes, blinked rapidly, then stared up at him.
“Are you well, Princess?” he asked softly, hoping that she hadn’t seriously injured herself.
She didn’t answer at first, gazing wide-eyed at him and making him feel all sorts of things he had no business feeling.
But as the silence stretched on, her eyes narrowed slightly, and Jacob realised that he’d slipped up, calling her by her title.
“You know who I am?” he pressed on before she could think overly long on it, a new set of worries clamouring for attention.
Head injuries, Jacob knew, were the most unpredictable. What if she’d forgotten him?
To his relief, she nodded slowly, wincing at even that small gesture.
“You’re Mr. Lauer,” she said. “The man who has caused me nothing but problems since we met.”
Well, thought Jacob
, if she’s well enough to bloody insult me, then she’s probably well enough.
“Can you sit up?” he asked, piously ignoring her acerbic tone.
She did so slowly, not even objecting when he wrapped a supporting arm around her.
The bonnet he’d untied stayed on the ground below her and her hair trailed down her back, a riot of sable curls littered with twigs and leaves.
She looked enchanting, like a wood nymph. She looked dangerous as hell.
Forcing himself to concentrate on her wellbeing and not on – well – her, Jacob removed a handkerchief and pressed it against the cut on her head, wincing right along with her.
He’d need to get her somewhere with light so he could check the damage properly. And they were miles from the Winter Palace and even further from the village.
“You’re going to have quite a lump,” he said softly, his eyes focused on the side of her forehead where there was a bump already forming.
“Oh, that’s marvellous,” she answered with a rueful grin that pleased Jacob more than he could say. No swooning and crying from the princess. “I imagine I look like a troll.”
“You look beautiful,” he answered before he even realised what he was doing. “Like a forest fairy.”
Realising what he’d said, he met her startled gaze and watched as a delicate blush stained her cheeks.
Clearing his throat, Jacob removed the handkerchief from her head and dragged his mind back to matters at hand.
“Let’s get you up,” he said brusquely, all business now.
She nodded carefully again, but her eyes were watchful and they never left his face.
When she was on her feet, he let go but stayed close.
She swayed a little but her eyes were focused, a bit too focused for his comfort, and she managed to stay upright.
“Can you walk?” he asked.
“Yes, I – I think so.”
“Very well. And where are we walking to?”
She opened her mouth, and Jacob just knew she was going to try to send him away.
It was time to be honest with the princess, about this at least.
“Miss Royal.” He faced her and kept his expression stern so she would know that he would brook no argument. “You are hurt and alone in the middle of a forest. And I must warn you that no matter what you do or say, I am not leaving you here alone. Now, you can either trust me enough to tell me where you’re heading. Or you can keep quiet and we’ll stand here all night.”
Protecting The Princess Page 6
