37 Her Highness and the Bodyguard

by Christine Rimmer

  She said, “My mother has urged me to give you a chance.”

  He sent a grateful prayer to heaven for the goodness and generosity of his sovereign. “Her Highness’s wisdom is legendary.”

  The breeze lifted her shining dark hair, carried the scent of her perfume to him. “Yes, well. I must confess she can be very convincing.”

  Relief surged through him. “We can be married immediately. Now that it’s settled, everything will fall into place.”

  She was leaning on the railing, staring out at the view. But then she straightened. “Hold on.”

  Hold on? He didn’t like the sound of that. “What now?”

  She turned to him, drawing her shoulders up the way she did when she prepared for conflict. She even stepped back, claiming distance between them. “I said a chance. I didn’t say I wanted to race to the altar.”

  “But you said that Her Highness had convinced you.” He kept his tone even and reasonable, though he didn’t like the turn this conversation had taken.

  She hitched her proud chin higher. “She did. She convinced me that you and I need to spend time with each other, to see if we might find a way to forge a future together.”

  “Time.” He kept his voice level, but it wasn’t easy.

  Her dark gaze scanned his face. “Marcus. Don’t look at me like that.”

  He pressed his lips together. “Like what?”

  “Like you want to grab me and toss me over your shoulder and run for the nearest priest.”

  It was exactly what he wanted to do. But apparently, she wouldn’t allow it to be that simple.

  He took a moment to regroup, shoving his hands in his pockets, glancing away toward the moon before facing her again. “How much time were you thinking?”

  She looked adorably anxious and she fiddled with the tie of her robe again. “Well, I don’t know. I thought we could play it by ear. I thought you could move in here, with me—in separate rooms, of course, at first.”

  His pride jabbed at him. “Move in with you. Live off you, you mean.”

  She looked hurt and he instantly despised himself. “Well, um, where did you think we would live?”

  He shut his eyes, drew in a slow breath. And confessed the truth. “I didn’t think. Except for the necessity that we marry as soon as possible.”

  “You would want me to come and live with you?” She said it as though it were actually a possibility.

  It wasn’t. He had a one-bedroom unit with a single bath, in housing provided by the CCU. By his calculation, it would be another three years before he could afford his first house. It would be small and no doubt in need of repair—and certainly not in the luxurious harbor area. “No. No, of course not. You can’t live with me, not where I am now. And you wouldn’t want to.”

  “I can’t?” She frowned.

  “I mean, it’s a single officer’s unit. We would have to be married first and then I would have to put in for something bigger. And it still wouldn’t be...” God. How to say it without sounding pitiable and so far beneath her he wasn’t fit to kiss her pretty toes. “It wouldn’t be what you’re accustomed to.”

  She moved closer then and she put her soft hand on his chest again. “If we were married—which isn’t going to happen right this minute—I would be proud to live with you in CCU housing.”

  There was so much to consider. He hadn’t given much thought to any of it in his blind rush to get her to see that they had to marry, and do it quickly. “I don’t think CCU housing will be appropriate for you,” he said carefully, his body aching for her, his mind and heart once again all too aware of how very far she was above him, of how impossible their marriage was going to be in practice.

  Impossible.

  But absolutely necessary now.

  “Oh, Marcus.” With a tender sigh, she moved closer again and let her shining head droop forward on the stem of her neck, resting her forehead against his shoulder. “You’re going to have to relax a little, you know? You’re going to have to let loose of some of your pride and your hidebound sense of what is fitting.”

  He cradled the back of her head, eased his yearning fingers into her silky, fragrant hair. And then he whispered only a little raggedly, “Pride and what’s fitting have served me well.”

  She lifted her head. Her eyes beckoned—dreamed of, longed for, never to be.

  And yet, here they were. Together. After all these years.

  They had made a child.

  And somehow, he had to see to it that they stayed together, that they married and made some kind of settled life side by side. He had to give his child the essential things he’d never had.

  “Less pride,” she whispered, her breath so sweet and warm across his throat. “Forget what’s fitting.”

  “I can never forget. Marry me.”

  She looked at him so tenderly. And shook her head. “We must have time first.”

  With a low growl of frustration at her stubborn refusal to do what must be done, he dipped his head and captured her lips. Because he had to, because the need was growing in him, to taste her again. To make her his.

  They had to get married. She might say there was another choice. But for him, there was only one. Even if he could never be equal to her, even if she would forever be the princess he had no right to claim.

  She kissed him back, eagerly, opening to him, sucking his tongue into her mouth where it was wet and slick and wonderful. He stroked those silky inner surfaces and pulled her closer, banding his arms good and tight around her.

  Too soon, she broke the kiss. “Oh, Marcus....” She stood on tiptoe, pressed her tender lips to the side of his throat. “I mean it. Time.” She breathed the words onto his skin.

  He stroked her hair. Living silk. “How much time? The longer we wait, the more people will talk.”

  She chuckled, the sound a little bit sad. “It’s not the Middle Ages. You really need to come to grips with that. I meant what I said. I want you to move in here. I want to...try and be close with you in the ways that matter. I want to see if we might have a prayer for a real marriage, you and me.”

  It wasn’t what he’d hoped for. But he supposed it was the best he was going to get at this point. “I would have to keep my quarters. At least for now. Now and then, depending on my duties, I would need to stay there. And as you probably know I often travel, providing security for your sisters or your brothers.”

  “Yes. Of course. I understand that.”

  “But when I’m not on assignment, I could be with you here most of the time....”

  She let out a happy little cry and clasped his shoulders. “You mean you will?”

  He gave her the unvarnished truth. “I will do whatever I have to do to get you to marry me, to give our child my name.”

  She caught his face between her hands. “Do you have to sound so grim about it?”

  He made his lips curl upward. “I shall try to be more cheerful.”

  “See that you do,” she instructed sternly. And she brushed the hair at his temples with the backs of her fingers, the way she used to do all those years ago, when they were secret lovers in California.

  He turned his head, kissed the soft pad of flesh at the base of her thumb and then nipped that softness between his teeth, enjoying the small, eager shiver that moved through her and the way her eyes got lazy, the twin fans of her thick, dark eyelashes lowering as she sighed. He couldn’t help but wonder: If he took her to bed now, could he get her to give in and marry him right away?

  His body responded instantly to that idea.

  Her hips were pressed to his. She knew exactly what was going on with him. And she clucked her tongue and shook her head. “I confess, I am tempted....” She tipped her head to the side, studying him, and he saw the shadows beneath her eyes.

  Seduction would have to wait. He ordered his body to back off and kissed her forehead. “You need a good night’s sleep.”

  “Always so noble,” she said with a teasing frown.

 
“Not as noble as I ought to be. But you have to take better care of yourself, starting with getting your rest.”

  “Oh, I suppose you have a point. Though making mad, passionate love with you would be so much more fun.”

  “I will be more than happy to oblige you—once you’ve had some sleep.”

  “Oblige me?” She groaned. “This is not how I planned it.”

  “Planned what?”

  “This conversation. I expected you to try to seduce me into saying yes right away.”

  He shamelessly lied. “I would never do such a thing.”

  “Yes, you absolutely would. You’ve already confessed the truth, Marcus.”

  “What truth?” He tried to look innocent and knew that he failed.

  “You’ll do anything to get me to marry you.”

  “Yes, well. You have me there.”

  “It’s all so very ironic, isn’t it? You walked away before and wouldn’t look back....”

  He tried to see the humor in it. “And now you can’t get rid of me.”

  “So I had a pretty good hunch that tonight you would try to seduce me. And then I was going to stand firm and explain how we not only wouldn’t be getting married right away, we weren’t having sex, either. Not until I felt we were...closer.”

  “Ah.” He bent, nuzzled her ear. “Closer...”

  She lifted her arms again and twined them around his neck. “But now, here you are, and I find I only want to...melt into you.”

  He didn’t speak. He didn’t dare. And he didn’t move, either. If he did, he would sweep her up in his arms and stride off down the nearest hallway in search of a bed.

  She slipped a hand between them and he almost groaned at the thought of what she might be reaching for. But then it turned out to be only the pocket of her robe. She brought out an envelope. “I want you to move in right away. Tomorrow.” Taking his hand, she put the envelope in his palm and closed his fingers around it. “Most of the time, Yvonne will be here to let you in. But if she’s not, here’s the key and the alarm code.”

  He explained, “I have training exercises in the morning and a couple of briefings. But I can get a few things together and be here in the afternoon....”

  “If I’m still at the museum, Yvonne will show you to your room. You must make yourself completely at home.” She said it as though she believed it, that he could ever be at home in a house such as this.

  Regretfully, he put himself away from her. “Now I should go.”

  She pressed her lips together and nodded. He turned for the door. “Tomorrow.” She said it softly. Almost hungrily. “Promise me.”

  “I promise,” he solemnly vowed. “In the afternoon...”

  * * *

  Rhia called Allie right after Marcus left and explained all the latest developments.

  “So he went and talked to Mother,” her sister said with a smile in her voice. “The man’s got stones, I have to say.”

  Rhia made a humphing sound. “He really shouldn’t have gone behind my back.”

  “I don’t know. I kind of admire a man who does what he has to do to get what he wants.”

  “That’s certainly one way of looking at it.”

  “It’s the right way to look at it. And I know you secretly agree with me, no matter that you feel you have to say that you don’t—and now he’s moving in with you. Good. Excellent, even.”

  “We’ll see.”

  “Rhia, be bold.”

  Rhia made a face at the far wall. “Oh, please. What is that supposed to mean?”

  “For eight years, you haven’t been able to forget that man. Now, at last, the two of you have your chance together. Don’t blow it.”

  “Oh, Allie...” All at once, Rhia’s throat felt tight and tears filmed her eyes. “I’m so happy.”

  “That’s more like it.”

  “And I’m afraid, too. What if we...can’t find our way to each other in the end?”

  “Don’t think like that. You can’t afford to think like that. Just concentrate on the two of you, on making it work. And it will work. Just watch.”

  “Oh, Allie. I do hope you’re right.”

  Chapter Nine

  When Rhia got home from the museum at six the next afternoon, Marcus was there. Dressed in jeans and a knit shirt, he rose from the sofa in the living room when she entered.

  “Rhia.” He set down the big coffee-table book he’d been looking at and stood to face her. His shoulders were broader than ever, it seemed to her at that moment. And his eyes...such serious eyes.

  They regarded each other. She’d been thinking about him all day, trying to take her sister’s advice and think positively. And it had worked, in the main. She’d found herself feeling a rather lovely sense of anticipation for this little experiment in intimacy of theirs.

  But now that he was here and she was here and they would have some time to be together that wasn’t secret or furtive or only for one night, well, somehow she felt a little awkward. And a lot nervous.

  “Is your room all right?” she asked.

  “It’s beautiful. Very comfortable. Thank you.” He studied her face. “You look more rested.”

  She laughed, a slightly off-kilter sound. “I... Yes. I am. Not long after you left, I climbed into bed and went right to sleep. I slept eight hours straight through. And when I got up, I felt better than I have in weeks. I actually ate a big breakfast. And it even stayed down.”

  “Good.”

  “Would you like a drink or a snack? Dinner is usually at seven-thirty....”

  “A little whiskey, I suppose.”

  “Let me get you some.” She went to the small wet bar in a corner alcove. “Ice?”

  “Neat, thanks.” He came closer.

  She took the stopper from the crystal decanter and poured him two fingers in a short glass. By then, he was behind her. She turned and handed him the glass.

  His fingers brushed hers as he took it and a lovely, hot shiver sang under her skin at the contact. “Thank you.” He sipped.

  She leaned back against the marble counter of the bar, her hands behind her, gripping the cool rim of smooth stone, and looked up at him. “I feel so...strange. Like this isn’t quite real, you know?” He said nothing, only watched her, taking another sip, his eyes going slightly golden, somehow. And she heard herself rambling on, “After all these years, you and me, here in my house. Learning to be together in an everyday way. Sometimes I used to imagine, what it might have been. If you and I had managed to stay together, to make a life together....” Her sentence trailed off. For a moment, there was silence between them.

  And then he said, “Marry me.”

  She shouldn’t have, but she thrilled at those two simple words. He moved in closer, set the glass on the counter beside her and then stepped even closer, caging her neatly between his strong arms. More hot shivers cascaded through her.

  He said, “If you marry me, you won’t have to wonder anymore. We will be together. For the rest of our lives.”

  She felt breathless, mesmerized by the sound of his voice, the gold lights in his green eyes.

  He bent closer, captured her lower lip gently between his white teeth, tugged lightly then let go. She let out a quivery sigh. He said, “I talked to your brother His Highness Alexander today.”

  She had to have her hands on him. So she braced them against his chest, which was hard and hot. She could feel the muscular shape of him through his shirt, count the beats of heart under her palm. “About us?”

  He nodded. “It only seemed right. He is my commander in the CCU. He needed to know.”

  “Have you been stripped of your rank? Dishonorably discharged?”

  He shook his head. “So far, your family has been amazingly forgiving. However, it’s still possible that your father will come after me with a deadly weapon.”

  She knew better. “That will never happen. My father will always be there if I need him. But he—and my mother, too—are very much about letting their childre
n make their own choices and lead their own lives.”

  “His Highness Alexander suggests that we marry immediately.”

  Rhia chuckled, thinking of Alex. Not too long ago Alex and his wife, Lili, had been in a situation very much like the one she found herself in with Marcus now. “Knowing Alex, I’m sure he did more that suggest that we marry right away.”

  “He’s right, you know.” He bent even closer and nuzzled her hair.

  “We need time.”

  He nipped her earlobe. “You keep saying that.”

  She let her hands stray up over his big shoulders, along the strong column of his neck, over his nape and into his close-cut hair. “We could make a bargain. I’ll stop saying we need time when you stop asking me to marry you.”

  “I’ll never stop.” He kissed her temple, her cheek. “Until you stand up beside me and become my wife.” And then his mouth was on hers, hot and demanding and so very, very good.

  Rhia sighed. He tasted so right. He was everything she’d resigned herself never to have.

  And he was pushing her too fast. “Marcus...”

  He stepped back instantly. “Too fast?”

  She laughed, it was so exactly what she had been thinking. And oh, she did want to grab him and drag him to her bedroom. And maybe she would. In a little while.

  But she wasn’t going to rush to the altar. No. They did need time, time to fill the same space and find out if they both felt good about being there, time to speak of who they were and where they had been and what they wanted from life.

  She touched his arm, letting her hand glide down over the hard, strong shape of it until she reached his hand and could twine her fingers with his. “Let’s go for a walk before dinner.”

  He arched a straight eyebrow. “Trying to distract me from my purpose?”

  “Oh, yes, I am. Definitely.”

  “It won’t work, you know.”

  “Marcus. It’s only a walk before dinner. Please?”

  * * *

  They went down the hill on which her villa was perched and strolled along the pier where all the giant luxury cruise ships were docked. People waved and called greetings to her and looked at Marcus somewhat curiously.