by Kate Tilney
I understand it is his job to hover. But sometimes a woman needs a moment to herself.
Especially when her imagination keeps wandering into dangerous territory. Like what it would be like to be swept up into those strong arms of his. What it would feel like to tear the tie from his neck and rip open the buttons on his shirt so I can splay my fingers over his undoubtedly ripped his abs and chest.
I suck in a breath and fan myself with the printout of services someone on the hospital staff handed me when we arrived for our visit.
“Are you okay, ma’am?” Ryan asks in a low voice.
“I am fine.” As long as I do not let my imagination run wild. “I am not as delicate as people might think.”
His lips twitch, but he says nothing, instead turning his attention back to scanning the room.
Today I am here to cut another ribbon. Yesterday afternoon was a new statue honoring veterans. Today is for a new trauma ward at the hospital. While I passionately care about both organizations, I am less enthused about standing up in front of crowds taking credit for other people’s work.
A doctor finishes his remarks with surprising flourish and steps aside. This is my cue. Plastering on a bright smile, I suck in a breath and step toward the microphone.
“On behalf of my father, the King, and my family, I am deeply honored to be here with you to commemorate this momentous occasion. It is our sincere hope that these new facilities will provide all who reside here with the best possible care and our doctors with the equipment necessary to save lives.” I break from my reading to glance at the courteous, but unsmiling, audience. “Thank you to everyone who made this possible and to everyone who works every day to keep the people of Rhodon healthy and safe.”
I step back, and there’s a polite buzz of applause. Someone hands the doctor and I each a pair of scissors. We pause for the cameras—my cheeks aching. When we get the nod, we cut and the ribbon falls aside to cheers.
My part done, I return to my spot in the background. Beside me, Ryan stoically stares around the now more animated room.
“Nice speech.”
I start at his remark. “It was pretty standard.”
“There’s nothing standard about you.”
His face remains impassive, but his words are warm, like a caress down my spine. Is it my imagination running wild again, or is the sexy bodyguard with a jaw that could cut diamonds flirting with me?
My heart flutters.
Before I can issue a witty or flirty response of my own, Ryan touches his ear and nods. “We’re good to go.”
Placing a hand on the small of my back, he ushers me through the crowd. While I may not like his pushiness, I rather enjoy the feel of his warm, hard hand on my back. If only it was touching my bare skin. My cheeks flush hot red.
He glances down at me again and frowns. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“I am quite well.”
I increase my stride and am nearly out the door when someone calls out, “Your highness.”
I turn to find a reporter I recognize as a royal correspondent from the country’s largest publication. Though I would like nothing more than to slip out the door without a comment, my father’s words about honor and duty come to mind.
The perma-smile back in place, I step away from the door, Ryan so close behind me, we almost touch. The man oozes sexuality and masculinity. I can practically taste it.
“Highness, any comment on those who say you’re not equipped to run our country.”
My smile almost falters, but I keep my spine straight. “When the time comes, I will serve our country to the best of my ability.”
“But wouldn’t it make more sense to step aside and let your brother do the job?”
I nearly say yes, but I feel Ryan’s hand cup my arm.
“I hate to interrupt, but we have to go.”
Relief floods through me. The journalist wilts under Ryan’s sharp stare.
A moment later, I am outside, and before I can blink, I am in the back of my car. I let out a breath I did not realize I was holding.
“Thank you for that,” I say.
Ryan meets my gaze in the rearview mirror. “I’m here to serve and protect.”
I am not sure rescuing me from an impertinent reporter falls under the category of his job description, but I am grateful all the same.
Ryan
There are far too many people streaming into the opera house for my liking. Apparently The Barber of Seville is the hottest ticket in town this evening. Who knew?
It’s tempting to encourage Sarah—or rather, the princess—to stay in with a book or movie tonight. But her father made it damn clear she needs to be seen in full battle wear tonight. I’m not sure how dressing up in an overpriced ball gown and a tiara proves strength to the public. But I’m not here to question the monarchy. I’m here to keep the princess safe.
That task has been a bit easier since the run-in at the hospital this morning. My intervention with the journalist seems to have created a truce of sorts between us.
I turn from my spot in the passenger seat to see how she’s holding up. The flashes from the camera flicker on her face and glitter in the diamond tiara nestled in her hair. She has it pulled up like it was in the photo, exposing her long neck. I clench my fists to keep from giving into the urge to reach back and run a finger over her bare shoulder.
Glancing out the window at the waiting crowd, I hope tonight’s audience is gentle.
“Ready, ma’am?”
Her dark gaze flitters to meet mine. There’s an edge of fear in her eyes. I’m filled with the urge to reach out and pull her into my arms.
Taking a deep breath through her nose, she nods. “Ready as ever.”
Throwing open my door, I step around the car alerting the guard standing in the entryway that we’re going in.
As I reach her door, I give another look around. There aren’t any figures on rooftops or in windows. Nothing turned up in the sweep ten minutes ago. Still, I’ll feel better once she’s in the royal box.
Pulling open her door, I offer my hand. Placing her own gloved hand in mine, she sets one high-heeled foot out the door. As she rises to her feet, a chorus of boos begin.
Sarah’s grip tightens, and she freezes.
“Are they booing me?” she asks in a low voice.
The crestfallen expression on her face tugs at my heart.
“Quick. Let’s get inside.”
With her hand clasped in mine, I keep her close as we push through the crowd. One angry man lunges out from her. She gasps and I throw a protective arm over her shoulder, keeping her out of range.
We pick up our pace and are in a moment later. I barely pay attention to the famed marble floors or ornate architecture as we wordlessly move up the stairs. Neither of us speaks as we race to the royal box.
Once she’s seated, I kneel in front of her. She’s gone pale, and the light seems to have left her eyes. Her pain gnaws at my gut.
“Can I get you something? Maybe some water?”
She shakes her head.
“I am not ready for this.”
“The opera?”
“Being queen. I’m never going to be ready for this.”
A single tear slips down her cheek. It’s all I can do not to fold her into my arms.
“You will be when the time comes.” I squeeze her hand. “I have no doubt.”
Another tear falls, along with my heart. “Did you hear them out there? They hate me.”
“No one hates you.”
She gives an indelicate snort. I smile as some of the fire rekindles in her eyes.
“They do not seem to particularly care for me.” Her pout is back. “I was fine when I was their partying princess. Like a silly pet or something. But now . . . they do not want me. What if they never give me a chance?”
I wish I could give her specifics about how to win over her country and the people in it. But maybe tips aren’t important right now. Maybe she just needs a good
old-fashioned pep talk.
I tip her chin up with my finger. “Right now there are some people who may think they don’t want you as your queen. But they need you.”
“They don’t need me.”
“They do.” My thumb runs over her smooth skin. “They don’t know what you’re capable of doing. They don’t know what’s in your heart.”
“And you do?”
I lift a shoulder. “I know it’s only been a couple days, but I saw how much compassion you had when you visited the patients at the hospital. I know you stayed up half the night reading textbooks and documents.”
I hesitate a moment and even though I may live to regret it, I raise her hand to my lips and give it a brief kiss. “You will make them see how lucky they are to have you. In the meantime, I’m here.”
Because while this may have been another paycheck a few days ago, now I know I can’t leave Sarah’s side until I know she’s good and safe.
Sarah
I have a plan. It came to me last night while Figaro sang his signature song made famous by Bugs Bunny and Elmer Fudd. All I have to do is give a quick speech at this economic development breakfast and lose my security detail.
Which, I admit, will not be easy. Not with the way Ryan never takes his eyes off me for longer than a quick scan of the room. Even now, as I wrap up my speech about the importance of supporting local industry, I can feel his eyes on me.
I fight a twinge of guilt at what I am about to do. But I can’t afford to get caught up in emotions. Especially not where Ryan is concerned.
As the business leaders join me in a mimosa toast, I take only a taste for courage before setting the glass aside.
While everyone returns to their plates of pastries and fruit, I move toward the hallway leading to the back. I have barely taken two steps when Ryan grabs my arm.
“Your car is waiting on the other side.”
“I know. But I left my purse in the powder room.”
His eyes narrow, but he gives a short nod.
A wave of relief rushes over me, but I keep my face neutral. I have come too far to go back now. In the powder room, I grab my bag and lock the door. I make quick work of stripping out of my dress and into a pair of jeans and a T-shirt. Scrubbing the makeup from my face, I pull my hair back into a tight bun. With a cropped blonde wig and a pair of oversized sunglasses to finish my look, I step back to study my disguise in the mirror.
I blink in disbelief. I hardly recognize the woman staring back at me. That bodes well for my ability to slip away undetected. I tuck cash into my back pocket and stuff my dress into the oversized bag. I hide it under the sink, hoping it will take at least a few minutes for Ryan to bust open the door and discover I have gone incognito.
My heart races in my ears as I push a chair under the window. Doing my best to be quiet, I push the window open. Sucking in a breath, I pull myself up and over the ledge. It is a short drop to the ground outside.
I walk briskly to the dock just behind the restaurant. Pulling out the fake ID I used to use in college with my girlfriends, the dock agent shows me to the boat I rented first thing this morning.
Excitement bubbles inside of me as I cast off and turn on the boat’s engine. I cannot believe it worked. Just as planned, I made it from the podium to the water in just five minutes. If my calculations are correct, Ryan is only now realizing I am no longer inside. Pushing the throttle, I pull away from the dock.
Thud.
My heart leaps into my throat. I turn to find my bodyguard standing on the back of the boat. His chest rising up and down, his hazel eyes narrow into slits.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
Ryan
When she doesn’t immediately answer my question, I repeat it with more heat. “Where do you think you’re going?”
I wait for her to fumble out an excuse or an apology. I’m not prepared for her to throw her head back and laugh.
My patience gone, my hands ball into fists at my side. I practically roar, “What the fuck are you doing?”
She falls silent and her eyes widen.
“No one besides my brothers has ever used that word around me.”
I’m not going to let her guilt me into forgetting that we’re currently pushing farther and farther away from the shore.
If I hadn’t heard the bathroom window creak open, I might have missed her. As it was, I rounded the building in time to watch her saunter down to the dock. If she’d been a little quieter, she could be halfway to God knows where before I figured it out.
I fight a fresh wave of fury. I run my fingers through my hair. “Princess, I need you to level with me. What’s going on here?”
Her shoulders slump. “Last night, at the opera, I realized I need one day. Just one day to be no one before I spend the rest of my life serving the people of my country. Whether or not they hate me.”
A tear slips down her cheeks, and my resistance slips.
“You realize what’s going to happen when your father finds out?”
“I can tell him I knocked you out. Kidnapped you.”
I chuckle at that. “Don’t you think that would look worse for me?”
She watches me carefully, her expression hopeful. “You won’t make me go back?”
“I won’t make you go back.” I sigh. “Where are we headed?”
A bright smile explodes across her face a second before she throws her arms around me. My hands come up instinctively, molding to her curves. My body comes alive at her touch. Including my cock, which is aching to be inside of her.
I shake the thought from my head.
“Barcelona is only a couple hours away by boat,” she says.
“I’ll need to let someone know you’re okay.”
She nods and pulls away. “But then no more cell phones.”
“No more cell phones.” I used to be a hard-nosed warrior no one could push around. Now she’s turned me into putty. “Princess, this better be worth it.”
“It will be.” She grins again. “I need one more favor.”
“You don’t want my kidney do you?” Or maybe my heart.
“Do you think that for today I could just be Sarah and you can just be Ryan?”
Her words do something to my heart. “With pleasure.”
Now that I am committed to what may be some form of treason, I type in a quick message to Georgio and turn off my phone.
Though it’s still early, the sun is already beating down on us here in the open water. I shrug out of my suit jacket and toss aside my tie. I’m rolling up my sleeves when I catch Sarah staring at me. If I’m not mistaken, her gaze is every bit as hungry as mine.
Maybe a day alone with her isn’t such a good idea. It will take every ounce of my willpower to keep my hands off of her.
But even as I vow to do just that, my body and heart scream to make her mine.
Sarah
Bursting with laughter, Ryan and I stumble into a studio flat near Las Rambla.
“I cannot believe you ‘know a guy’ with an empty apartment.” I shake my head. “Just like you knew a guy who could get us tickets to the football match.”
“When you spend the better part of a decade in the military, you get to know a lot of people.” Ryan grins, and I swear the air around us turns up a degree or two. “I can’t believe you won a beer drinking contest. And that you picked a fight at the match.”
“That woman was being impossibly rude. How low do you have to stoop to steal a free T-shirt from a small child?”
“Luckily, you were there to slay the dragon and get it back for him. With a little more training, you could put me out of a job.”
I wave off the remark, though my heart bursts at his compliment.
It really has been an incredible day. We arrived in Barcelona just after noon. After grabbing a bite to eat at a cafe and strolling through the markets, we started up to Parc Güell. Then Ryan found a payphone and made a call. An hour later we were sneaking into the FC Barcelona game
.
We finished our evening by sharing a bottle of wine and tapas at another restaurant. Ryan told me about growing up in a small town in eastern Washington state. I told him about the years I spent at university in England, and the taste of anonymity that came with them. He tells me about following his father into the military. I tell him about being the only daughter in a family of boys. He tells me about his mom’s peach pie. I tell him about my favorite spot in the palace gardens.
There are people I have known a lifetime who know me less than this man. There is no one who makes me feel more at peace.
There is only one thing I want—one thing I need at this moment. He is standing in front of me with a glass of water.
I take the glass from his hand and set it aside. He eyes me curiously, but I don’t give him a chance to speak. I throw my arms around his neck and pull his mouth to mine. He jolts in surprise. For a moment I worry he will push me away. But his arms come up and wrap around me. Moving up and down my back, over every curve of my body.
My lips part, and our tongues meet. I moan as one of his hands lowers, grabbing my derrière, pulling me close enough to feel his hard length against my belly. My fingers dive into his cropped hair, and I know this will not be enough.
I want—need—him all.
My hands lower to the waist of his pants. I palm him through the fabric as I reach for the button.
He jerks back. “Sarah . . . Princess . . . Sarah. We can’t—”
“You said that for today we could be Ryan and Sarah.”
He releases a breath and nods. “I did say that.”
“What would Ryan do to Sarah right now?”
His eyes lift to mine. “He’d take her to bed and fuck her until neither of them could think straight.”
His words send a fresh thrill through my body. “Then let’s be Ryan and Sarah.”
Fortunately, I do not have to tell him twice. He reaches for me, pulling me toward the bed. When he tries to tug my shirt up, I bat his hand away.
