by Katie Knight
He leaned his back against the wall and scrubbed his hands over his face. “No. I’m the one who should apologize. You’re my employer and I should never have spoken to you like that. I’m sorry.”
She walked over to lean beside him, not close enough to touch, but close enough to feel his heat again through the fabric of his tux jacket. The silk of her gown swished in the quiet air. “I tend to talk too much sometimes, especially when I’m nervous.” She looked over and caught his wary expression. “It’s not you. It’s this whole situation. My dad’s condition, the impending succession, all of it. I’ve waited too long and now I’m screwed.”
“Pardon?” He frowned. “How?”
“Well, my father sired no male heirs. No other children at all except me. You know as well as I do that my cousin is just waiting for news of the king’s death to make his move. I wasted what time I had to get my father to change the laws and now I’ll be out of a country soon unless I think of a solution.”
He nodded, silent. Both of them stared across the hall into the shadows beyond.
“So,” he said a minute later. “Thought of anything yet?” His words dripped with amusement and soon both of them were laughing. It felt so good after such dark times earlier and Esme felt some tension leave her body.
In spite of herself, she laughed—even as she shook her head. “There is one way, but I don’t even know how I’d go about accomplishing it at this point.”
“What’s that?” Z asked.
“I’d have to get married.”
“Sounds awful.”
“Yes, well, I don’t have to worry about that because there are no men around who want to get hitched to me anyway, so…” She swiped her hand under her nose then gathered his jacket tighter around her. “It was a silly idea. Desperate times, desperate measures and all.”
“Aw, c’mon, Esme,” Z said, nudging her shoulder with his. The brief contact sent a shower of sparks down her whole left side before she tamped them down. Must be the exhaustion and jet lag. Had to be. This was her bodyguard, a man she barely knew. He looked her up and down and she couldn’t help the tingle between her thighs. He was a good-looking guy, after all, and she wasn’t totally immune to his charms. “I bet there are all kinds of guys lining up to court you.”
“Court me?” She snorted, reaching up to make sure her jewels were still in place—a ruby and diamond necklace that had belonged her mother and a matching set of earrings. The last thing she needed was to lose part of the crown jewels on this trip along with everything else. “What are you, from the nineteenth century? I believe we call it dating nowadays,” she teased.
“Fine. Date you, then.” Z turned slightly to face her, zeroing those bright blue eyes on her. The effect was quite mesmerizing. “You’re a beautiful woman. Men must chase after you wherever you go if you don’t mind me saying so.”
“I don’t mind.” She giggled like a nervous schoolgirl then straightened, her mother’s voice echoing through her head reminding her to behave like a proper princess. “But no. Men are not flocking to me like hungry seagulls. Except for the ones who only want a royal title to flaunt around.”
“Ouch.” He cringed. “Occupational hazard, huh?”
“Yep.” She smoothed her hands down her skirts and he pushed away from the wall. They continued on. “So, unless you know of a website for royals dating, I’m pretty well out of luck.”
He scrunched his nose. “Isn’t there some kind of network between you guys, a way for you all to communicate with each other.”
“Royals ‘R Us?”
“No.” He laughed. “I don’t know. I guess I never really thought about a predicament like yours before. You’re sure there’s no other way for you to keep the crown of Prylea under your control instead of your cousin’s?”
“I’m sure. I’ve spent the last year searching.” She sniffed. “If only I knew an eligible guy, someone trustworthy and strong, who would be willing to marry me for a year and then quietly divorce after the kingdom was settled.”
“Is that allowed?” Z asked. “Divorcing, I mean.”
“There’s no law against it. But for me to hold on to the throne, I’d have to produce a male heir first.”
“Oh. Right. Then you’d be the Queen Mother?”
“Yes, and I’d rule in my child’s stead until he turned eighteen. The parliament wouldn’t be able to do anything about it.” She did her best to hide the sadness that swelled inside her from such a clinical explanation of what should have been a joyful act. The concerned look Z gave her said she’d done a poor job of it. “I want to get married and have children someday, I do. But all the political intrigue surrounding it now, makes if feel more like an obligation than a special part of life.”
“I’m sorry,” he said again, stopping at the next corner which led back down the hall to her father’s room. They lingered in the shadows. “I wish I knew someone for the job.”
“Me too.” She gave him a rueful smile. “Don’t suppose you’d be up for the offer, huh?”
She felt as shocked as he looked by her words. She’d not meant to say that out loud, but now that it was out there, it wasn’t such a bad idea. He was strong. He was trustworthy. He was single. No family men were hired on as security at the palace, for fear their private lives could be used against them in a crisis.
“Me?” His voice creaked out, several octaves higher than usual, and she bit back a grin. She’d obviously shaken him. It was just as well, she supposed. Parliament would’ve had a field day if they’d returned to Prylea engaged. “I’m not really the marrying type, your highness.” He backed away slowly, his hands in the air. “We barely know each other. I’m your bodyguard. I don’t want kids at all right now. I don’t think—”
“Calm down.” She chuckled and walked past him back into the well-lit hallway toward her father’s room. “It was just an idea. But you can help me find a suitable mate, yes? Screen them for me and dig into their backgrounds.” The elevators dinged in the distance and her father’s physician walked out. She backed away, meeting Z’s gaze. “Think about it. I need to speak with the doctor now. Let me know what you decide later.”
Chapter Four
“About your earlier request, your highness. I can’t. I’m sorry,” Z said. They were standing in the foyer of Esme’s DC townhome and it was well past midnight now. The news from the doctors had been just as dismal as she’d expected. They’d be lucky to get her father home to Prylea alive, let alone keep him on the throne for any length of time.
“I’m sorry, too.” She shrugged out of his tux jacket and handed it back to him, her spirits slumping along with her shoulders. She wasn’t a quitter, though, and Esme forced herself to rally.
“Forgive me, your highness,” Z’s tone grew concerned. “But as your bodyguard, I have to say it really isn’t safe for someone of your position to randomly date men to try and find a proper mate.”
“Tell me something I don’t know.” She balanced a hand against the wall to slip off her sandals. The cool hardwood was a blessed relief against her aching toes. “What else am I supposed to do? Sit by and watch while my cousin takes over the country? I don’t think so.” With her designer shoes dangling from her fingers, she marched down the hall toward the kitchen at the back of the place. The silk of her gown whispered softly in her wake. “If only there was a convenient clinic I could pop into for a quick IVF, except Prylea’s antiquated laws don’t even allow that. Or adoptions. Pardon my French, but I’m royally screwed.”
Z trailed behind her, leaning one shoulder against the wall of the large, open-style, chef’s kitchen while Esme plopped down on a stool at the center granite island. Somewhere on the way back to the townhouse, he’d loosened his bowtie, which now hung undone around his neck. The top few buttons of his white shirt were open too, revealing a tantalizing hint of tanned throat. And he’d rolled up his cuffs, revealing sinewy, strong forearms, sprinkled lightly with golden hair. Gah! Even the man’s arms were sexy. It wasn�
��t fair.
She sighed. “I mean, I’m no supermodel, but c’mon. I’m not a total toad either, right? I’m clean and smart and relatively attractive. Surely there’s someone out there who’d want to be with me, help me out, and then quietly walk away without wanting to take over everything.”
“Your highness—” Z pushed away from the wall and started toward her, but she held up a hand, cutting him off.
“No. Hear me out, please. And stop calling me ‘your highness’ every time you disagree with me. It makes me feel weird, especially when it’s just the two of us. Call me Esme, like you did before. Or Es. That was my nickname at school. Please.” She exhaled slow and crossed her arms, determined not to let this setback stop her. “My father’s dying, sooner rather than later, and my options are dwindling. You said no to helping me conceive a child and I respect that. But I do ask that you please reconsider helping me screen potential candidates. As head of my personal security team, I’d think it would fall under ‘other duties as assigned,’ anyway. Besides, this man I choose will be intimately involved in my life, at least until the baby is born. I’d expect an enterprising guy like you, looking to get ahead in his chosen field, to be all over that opportunity to weed out the bad actors.” She narrowed her gaze, not missing the flicker of interest in his blue eyes. “So, since you refused to impregnate me, I’m thinking my next best option is to find a suitable candidate at the upcoming state dinner. I’ve already texted the organizer to send me a copy of the guest list.”
Z gave her a strange look. “You’re going to troll for a sperm donor at an official state dinner?”
Esme snorted. She’d opened the door to candor with her “royally screwed” remark, so she could hardly blink at his frank words now. They were true after all. Her poor mother, God rest her soul, would have a fit if she knew what her precious daughter was planning. “Yes, that’s exactly my intention. I can test the waters a bit, get a feel for who I have chemistry with and who I don’t. I’m not as familiar with DC society as I am with the courtiers back home, so that’s where you come in. You can screen the available men ahead of time, run background checks, all that. You won’t father my child, but you’ll help me select the baby daddy, so to speak. Sound acceptable?”
He was quiet for so long that she feared he might just run screaming from the townhouse. Finally, Z took a deep breath and joined her at the island, taking a seat on the next stool over from hers. His expression was deadly serious now, his blue eyes dark and wary. “This sounds way too risky to me, your…” He coughed to cover his mistake. “Sorry, Es. I mean, I understand the thinking behind it, but are you sure there’s no other way? Technology the way it is now, there has to be a way you could lie, go to some remote clinic in Switzerland or South Africa or even the South Pole, for Christ’s sake, and get the IVF done. No one would have to know.” She opened her mouth to answer, but he continued. “Yeah, it would be a secret you’d have to keep for the rest of your life, but man.” He shook his head and looked away. “I just really don’t want to have any part of arranging to match you with some complete stranger. No background check I could do between now and the dinner could make that safe. You’d be giving this guy power over you, and that’s a dangerous position to be in. Dangerous for both of us if I’m taking part in putting you there. I’ve had troubles with favors like this coming back to bite me in the ass. I swore to never let that happen again.”
“And I swore that if I ever became ruler of Prylea, I’d govern with total honesty. I won’t keep secrets from my people or from my child. No secret clinics or procedures.”
Z scrubbed a hand over his face, his jaw shadowed with dark stubble now. “What about an ex-boyfriend? Someone you trust who might be willing to help you out?”
“No.” Esme stared down at her bare toes. “I never really dated that much in college. I was too busy with my studies. And the few guys I did go out with only wanted to be with me for my political connections. That’s not the kind of man I want fathering my child.”
“Seriously?” Z gave her a flat look. “Because it sounds to me like that’s the angle you’re exploiting to get what you want now, right? You don’t really think you’ll find someone who doesn’t care about politics at a state dinner, do you? What difference does it make if the guy has political goals?”
Esme turned to face the island, elbows resting on the granite, and dropped her face into her hands. Z was right. There was no difference. This was all a huge mess and it was all her fault. “Ugh. What am I doing? What am I going to do? All I’ve ever wanted was the right to lead my country. It’s what I was raised for, what I’ve studied. I just always thought there’d be more time to get the laws changed. I guess I thought my father would live forever.”
Tears stung her eyes again and this time she didn’t hold them back. Swiping her hands across her wet cheeks, she sniffled and swiveled on her stool to face Z again. “Listen, you must think I’m a horrible person for even suggesting any of this, but I swear I’m not. I’m heartsick over my father and stressed out completely. I never ever intended to trade my body in exchange for politics or favors. But if I have any shot at all of keeping the throne of Prylea, I need to get pregnant while my father is still alive. I’d like to know that at least my sacrifice helped strengthen my country’s position in the world, either through an alliance with our friends in the United States or another staunch defender of Prylea. Does that make sense?”
He gave a slow nod. “It does. What about your father, though? He’s sick, but he’s not an idiot. He’ll have questions about all this.”
“I know. I’ll handle him, don’t worry.” Esme straightened, forcing her emotions back into seclusion. Feelings had no place in important decisions. Another lesson she’d learned from her mother. Do what needed to be done for the good of all, even if it caused personal suffering. “Besides, it’s not as if the man—whoever he is—will be in my life permanently. I’ll raise my child on my own.” She blinked over at him. How a man could be so rumpled and still look so darned attractive, she had no idea. Still, it was no concern of hers, regardless of the way her nerve endings seemed to spark and sizzle whenever Z was around. He was her partner in this plan, her aide and protector. How he looked had no bearing on things, no matter how adorable.
“So, will you help me then?”
“Do I have a choice?” Z gave a long-suffering sigh and mumbled something under his breath she didn’t quite catch, then took her extended hand and gave it a firm shake. “Fine. But I want it on record that I think this is a very bad idea. Very bad. I’m only participating to protect you from yourself, Es.”
“Noted. And no, you don’t. Consider this an official security detail duty.” With a plan in place, her flagging spirits rallied, and a renewed energy burst through her system like fireworks. She pulled out her phone and scrolled through her messages until she found the one she needed. “Perfect—I just heard back from the organizer. Here’s the list of attendees for the state dinner. I’ll forward you a copy and we can make a list of contenders.”
Chapter Five
“What’s the matter, dude? You’re moving like a ninety-year-old lady this morning,” Z’s buddy Deacon said from the laptop screen.
Z was in the basement workout room of Esme’s townhouse, trying to get his endorphin buzz on and forget about that stupid offer she’d made him the previous evening. Not once, but twice, she’d asked him to father her child.
Jesus.
He picked up the pace of his marine push-ups, knowing Deacon was right. He was moving slow this morning, and it had nothing to do with the early hour and everything to do with the fact he couldn’t seem to shake his weird fascination with her request.
Deacon, of course, was kicking his ass with the push-ups. They Facetimed like this several times a week to keep each other on track. Z was dedicated to remaining in fighting shape because when he got the call to return to active duty, he wanted to be ready. Deacon was on medical leave recovering from a leg injury that would�
��ve sidelined most men permanently, but SEALs never quit until the job was done, and they both had years of fighting left to go.
The job.
Z’s biceps trembled under the strain of overexertion and stress. Before he knew it, the hardwood floor rushed up at him and he barely managed not to face-plant. Deacon snickered onscreen and shook his head. “Dude, either you turned into a major wuss overnight or something’s up. I’m giving you the benefit of the doubt and going with the latter. Want to talk about it?”
No, he really didn’t, but he would, just because Z knew if he didn’t get it out, it would eat away at him. He’d always been hyper-observant, even before joining the SEALs. As he lay there now, panting and staring up at the ceiling of the workout room, Z found himself wishing he’d have spent more time observing the situation with Esme so he could have seen her bombshell of an offer coming.
With a huge sigh, he sat up and rested his forearms on his knees, wiping the sweat from his face with a towel before hanging his head. “You ever have something huge come out of the blue and blindside you, D?”
“You mean besides the IED my caravan ran over?” Deacon’s words dripped with sarcasm.
Z cringed. “Sorry. I just got thrown by something my new employer asked me last night, and I can’t seem to get it off my mind.”
“Hmm.” Deacon leaned closer to the computer screen on his end of the connection, frowning. “You’re working for some royal family, right, dude? What, did they ask you to be their new king or something?”
“Nah.” Z shrugged and pushed to his feet, walking over to take a seat on a stool at the bar, putting him and Deacon at eye level on the computer. “Well, sort of, I guess. I don’t know.”
