The Princess's Bodyguard

by Beverly Barton

Matt bowed. "I'm at your command, Your Highness."

  Adele took Uncle Milo's arm and went inside with him. Matt stayed on the terrace for a few minutes, his mind fighting a battle with his libido. He'd known what Adele was going to ask him—she wanted him to marry her. But even after the passion they'd shared last night, she still wanted only a marriage of convenience.

  A voluptuous redhead in a gold gown that hugged every inch of her ripe figure sauntered toward Matt. Oh, boy! Now there was trouble. If his guess was right, Mrs. Big Silicone Boobs was a rich, middle-aged divorcee on the lookout for her next conquest.

  "Hello," she said. "I'm Claudina Gallo. And you are?"

  "Matt O'Brien."

  "An American?"

  Matt nodded.

  "I adore American men."

  He needed to get inside and find Adele. Even with the extra security Theo had added tonight, both outside and inside the villa, Matt should stay fairly close to Adele throughout the party.

  "Would you care to dance, Ms. Gallo."

  "I would adore to dance," she replied.

  He led the clinging Italian lady inside and luckily found Adele dancing with Uncle Milo. The orchestra completed one piece of music just as Matt took Ms. Gallo into his arms. When he started to release her, she whimpered.

  "I adore these moments between the dances," she said.

  Matt groaned inwardly. Apparently the senora adored everything. The music began again, and Matt caught a glimpse of Uncle Milo dancing with Dia, and Theo with Adele. He breathed a sigh of relief, then smiled at his dance partner.

  Nothing was wrong, Matt told himself. Everything seemed perfectly normal. So why was it that all of a sud­den the hairs on the back of his neck were standing at attention? Gut instinct warned him that something was off-kilter. But what? As he led Ms. Gallo around the dance floor, Matt's gaze scanned the room. In his peripheral vi­sion he caught a glimpse of Mr. Khalid in the adjoining dining room. The same uncertainty Matt felt showed on Khalid's face. Matt slowed enough to look directly at Theo's mysterious friend. Khalid urgently shoved his way through a throng of guests and headed straight toward the dance floor. Oh, God! Matt thought. Something's happen­ing. What? What the hell had he missed?

  Two tuxedo-clad men pulled semiautomatic handguns from inside their jackets and brandished their weapons. One man held the guests at bay while the other zeroed in on Adele. How the hell had these men gained entry to a private, by-invitation-only party?

  Matt released Ms. Gallo so quickly that she almost lost her balance. He barged past the couples standing transfixed on the dance floor while Mr. Khalid, a 9 mm gun in his hand, came around from the other side—both he and Matt with the same destination. One of the intruders reached out for Adele. Theo shoved her aside and blocked the man's path. Matt pulled his SIG Saur P229 from his hidden shoulder holster.

  Then, over the thunder of his own heartbeat, he heard the deafening sound of gunfire.

  Chapter 10

  From the moment the man's hand touched her, the world began to move in slow motion around Adele. She heard Dia scream. Saw Theo collapse in front of her. Felt herself being jerked forward and then dragged alongside the husky man with a brown beard and keen, menacing brown eyes. Trying to assimilate all the information her brain had ab­sorbed in the past few minutes, she realized that Theo had been shot and that she was being kidnapped. Adrenaline pumped through her body at an alarming rate. Fear ate away at her insides like an insidious acid.

  The orchestra stopped playing. People stood rigid as statues. Whimpers, cries and murmurs blended together, creating a frenzied melody to replace the music.

  Rapid shots in quick succession. More screams. Loud gasps. In her peripheral vision Adele caught a glimpse of the second intruder as he grasped his chest and dropped to his knees. His hand opened. His weapon hit the floor with a loud clang, then he fell forward, flat on his face. While Mr. Khalid walked over to inspect his kill, the man grip­ping Adele's arm so fiercely paused in his hurried escape. The six extra guards Theo had hired for tonight's party swarmed into the villa from their vantage points outside on the grounds. Caught between the guards on one side and Matt and Mr. Khalid on the other, Adele's kidnapper pulled her directly in front of him. Holding his pistol to her head, he backed up against the wall. Sweat moistened her face, coated her palms and trickled down between her breasts. She closed her eyes and said a prayer, pleading with God for her life.

  A gunshot echoed inside her head. A wet stickiness splattered across her neck, shoulder and the side of her face. Had she been shot? Was she dying? No, that wasn't possible. She felt very much alive.

  Matt had attacked so quickly that Adele didn't realize what had happened until she saw him directly in front of her, grasping her shoulder and jerking her away from the man who slumped into a heap on the floor. That's when she saw the gun in Matt's hand. Adele gasped.

  "Are you all right?" Matt asked.

  She nodded.

  Mr. Khalid entered the foyer and, using his foot, turned the dead man over on his back. Adele knew she shouldn't look, but she did. Her mouth opened on a silent scream. Blood had gushed from a single shot in the center of his forehead and had oozed down the corner of his mouth. Matt had killed this man, taken him out with an expertise that was both amazing and frightening.

  Still holding the gun in one hand, Matt wrapped his other arm around Adele's shoulders and hugged her to his side. Then he and Mr. Khalid issued orders to Theo's hired guards. The first order was to telephone the police and send an ambulance immediately.

  "Theo was shot trying to protect me," Adele said.

  With his free hand—the other still held his gun—Matt whipped out a handkerchief from his pocket and tenderly wiped the specks of blood from her face, neck and shoul­der. Adele trembled. He pressed a kiss against her temple, then led her from the foyer and into the room where Dia sat on the dance floor with Theo cradled in her arms. The guards guided the stunned guests from the room.

  Mr. Khalid knelt beside Dia. Matt and Adele came over and stood behind him as he flipped open Theo's tuxedo jacket and then ripped apart his bloodstained white shirt. He eased Theo onto his side to expose the exit wound. Tears streamed down Dia's face, but she didn't speak or move; she simply stared at the bloody, gaping wound in her husband's side. No one questioned Mr. Khalid's ac­tions because he seemed to know exactly what he was doing. Was he, among other things, a doctor or a trained medic? Adele's traumatized brain wondered.

  "Theo, can you hear me?" Khalid asked.

  Theo's eyelids fluttered, but he did not open his eyes. Not at first, but when Dia whispered his name softly, his eyelids opened. Dia bit down on her bottom lip and fresh tears filled her eyes.

  "Yes," Theo replied weakly.

  "They're both dead," Khalid said. "But everyone else is safe."

  "Adele?" Theo asked.

  She knelt down beside Mr. Khalid and lifted Theo's hand. "I'm fine. Thanks to you and. . ." Her voice broke with emotion.

  "We've sent for an ambulance," Khalid said. "Just lie here in your wife's arms and wait. It's a nasty wound, but you'll live."

  "You promise?" Theo tried to smile.

  "You have my word," Khalid replied.

  "You must go," Theo said to his friend. "Before the police arrive."

  Khalid nodded. "I will leave you in good hands. Your friend, Mr. O'Brien, is quite capable." Khalid stood, shook hands with Matt and said, "I will send word when I have the information you need."

  When Mr. Khalid left, Adele had the oddest notion that he had somehow disappeared into the night. Like a ghost. Or like the wind.

  Matt lifted her to her feet. "We have no proof, but it's a sure bet that one of those guys was the mercenary the Royalists hired. Undoubtedly Dedrick and his friends are tired of waiting for me to bring you home to Orlantha. I'd say he's more than eager to marry you. He's desperate."

  "He wants to become my husband before I can prove to my father that he's a traitor. And he knows it's only a matter of
time until I have the proof." Adele stared at the gun Matt still held. "Can't you put that away now?"

  Matt obliged her by slipping the SIG Saw P229 into his shoulder holster. "I'm sending two of the guards to the hospital with Theo and leaving the rest here with Phila and Ms. Sheridan."

  "Do you think they're in danger?"

  Matt shook his head. "No. I believe you were the only target. My guess is their orders were to bring you back to Orlantha immediately and do whatever it took, to kill any­one who got in their way."

  "Meaning kill my bodyguard if necessary." The thought of Matt dying to protect her sent shock waves through Adele's system. She shivered.

  Matt draped his arm around her shoulders. "You're trembling, honey. Maybe we should have the doctor check you out."

  "I'm fine," she told him. "Or at least I will be once I know for sure that Theo is going to be all right."

  "I agree with Mr. Khalid. Theo should be okay," Matt assured her. "We'll follow behind the ambulance. Is the nearest hospital in Dareh?''

  "Yes, but there's a clinic in Coeus. I believe they'll dispatch an ambulance from Coeus, the nearest town. And the local doctor will probably be with them, since the pa­tient is Theo Constantine."

  "Good. The sooner Theo sees a doctor, the better."

  "I thought you said—"

  Matt hugged her to him. "Theo is going to be okay. Mr. Khalid willed it, didn't he? And my guess is that not even Death would double-cross that guy."

  "Why do you suppose he left in such a hurry?'' Adele asked. "Do you think he's wanted by the police?"

  "Possibly. Interpol. Scotland Yard. The FBI. Khalid is no small-time hood. He's big-time. International."

  "How is it that Theo knows this man? Dia said he was an old acquaintance."

  "I think we're both better off not asking too many ques­tions about Mr. Khalid. All I want from him is proof you can take to your father about Dedrick's treachery."

  "Will you be indebted to him? Will I?"

  "To Khalid?" Matt shook his head. "He said he was doing it as a favor to Theo."

  "Then I'll owe Theo an enormous debt of gratitude."

  Off in the distance the distinct sound of emergency si­rens wailed through the night. The local authorities and hopefully the doctor were only minutes from the villa.

  Adele leaned heavily on Matt, grateful for his strength and for his care and concern. When he had come into her life, only a few short days ago, she had thought of him as her enemy. Strange how quickly things can change. At this very moment she knew exactly what Matt O'Brien was— he was her hero.

  * * *

  Daybreak over the Mediterranean surpassed mere beauty. Sublime might be a better adjective to describe the pastel glory of the sun's first light as it banished the dark­ness. Matt brought the rental Fiat to a quick stop in front of the villa. With armed guards situated at various points on the grounds, the place had the look and feel of an armed camp.

  Adele, who had been dozing the last ten minutes of the drive from the Dareh hospital, woke abruptly. She stretched and yawned, then glanced at Matt. "I hated to leave Dia."

  "She insisted we come back to the villa, clean up and get some sleep. Besides, Dia expects you to explain to Phila in simple terms what happened last night, and to reassure her that her father is going to be fine and will come home in a day or two."

  "I'm sure Ms. Sheridan had a terrible time with Phila last night. Thank God she managed to keep her in her room." Adele reached over and ran the back of her hand along Matt's rough cheek. "Thank you for remembering Phila last night, and sending one of the guards upstairs to tell Ms. Sheridan what happened and to let her know the villa would be guarded."

  "Sure thing." Matt felt awkward having so much praise lavished on him. Adele, Dia, Theo—who'd insisted on see­ing Matt the moment he awoke after surgery—had all acted as if he were some sort of superhero. He reminded them that he hadn't acted alone.

  "Yes, Khalid is a man you can count on," Theo had said. "Just as you are, Matt." Theo had reached for Matt's hand, and when Matt leaned down to grasp Theo's hand, Theo had said, "Contact Doran Sanders and tell him what has happened, if he doesn't already know. His number is programmed into my phone. He can take over Constantine, Inc. for the time being. And you, Matt—you must take care of things at the villa for a few days." An understand­ing had passed between the two men. Caring for things at the villa meant looking after Theo's family, too.

  "I'll handle things," Matt had assured Theo.

  Adele's voice returned Matt to the here and now. "Are you all right?" she asked. "You have the oddest expres­sion on your face."

  "Yeah, I'm fine," Matt opened the car door. "Come on, honey. You need a bath and some sleep." He rounded the Fiat's hood, swung open the passenger door and of­fered Adele his hand.

  She placed her hand in his. "Will you stay with me? I mean. . .will you stay in my room for a while? I really don't think I could bear to be alone."

  Matt tugged on her hand and assisted her out of the car, then, without releasing her, headed her toward the villa's entrance. A guard stepped aside to let them pass and an­other guard inside the house opened the double doors.

  "Any problems?" Matt asked.

  "No, sir, no problems," the interior guard replied in heavily accented English.

  "I'll be in Mr. Constantine's office for a few minutes," Matt said. "After that I'll be upstairs with the princess, if I'm needed for anything."

  "Yes, sir."

  Matt escorted Adele to the foot of the stairs, then re­leased her hand. "Go on up and take a bath. I'll be up after I make that call to Doran Sanders."

  Adele nodded. "Do you suppose you could ask Cook to prepare us some tea? Perhaps a nice, soothing herbal tea?"

  Matt grinned. "I'll see what I can do." Adele smiled weakly, and Matt knew she was putting up a brave front. Protected, spoiled, indulged, pampered. He had no doubt that that described Adele's former life—her life before Dedrick Vardan and the Royalists had made plans to use her in their ruthless schemes. Before unscru­pulous men had become the architects of her future, de­termined to force her into an unholy marriage, and even sending their henchmen after her, Princess Adele had been living a fairy-tale life. Now she was living a nightmare. And he was right in the middle of her ongoing bad dream.

  Matt watched her climb the stairs, noted the weariness in her and longed to lift her into his arms, hold her and comfort her. Every masculine instinct within him wanted to promise her that he'd find a way to give her back her old life. But he couldn't make such a promise. No one could turn back time to those carefree days. But something told him that once he'd seen her through this trial of fire, Adele Reynard would be a better person. And perhaps so would he. After all, it wasn't every day that a guy got the chance not only to save a princess, but to help her save a country.

  Adele slipped into a pair of pale coral silk lounging pajamas. She sat on the edge of the bed and towel dried her hair. Several sharp, soft knocks at the door gained her attention.

  "Princess?"

  "Come in, Matt."

  The moment he entered the room, Adele stood to meet him. She tossed the towel into a nearby chair and met Matt in the center of the luxurious Persian carpet. He held a silver tray with both hands.

  "Tea for Her Highness," he said.

  She smiled. "How thoughtful of you."

  "It was thoughtful of Cook," Matt replied. "But she didn't seem to mind. She was already in the kitchen and had made coffee for the guards."

  Adele smiled. "Yes, very thoughtful of her."

  Matt chuckled. "You're used to servants waiting on you hand and foot. I'm not. And I have to admit that I've always had a certain, er, disdain for people who can't take care of themselves." When Adele opened her mouth to speak, he added, "My aunt Velma slaved all her life for people like that, and I doubt any of them ever thanked her."

  "All of us are not useless and ungrateful," Adele told him.

  "Yeah, I know." He shrugged. "It's ju
st a hangup from my childhood."

  "I understand." She was, as Matt was, a product of her childhood, of her own particular upbringing. While he had been raised as the ward of a household servant, she had been reared as a princess.

  Noting Matt's damp hair and the jeans and cotton sweat­shirt he wore, Adele realized he'd also showered. "Please, set the tray on the table." She nodded to the Chippendale mahogany and walnut tea table nestled between two white Donghia silk-covered, tufted chairs.

  Matt complied to her request. "I brought two cups. Thought I'd join you. Although I admit I'm not much of a tea drinker."

  "Strong, black coffee?" she asked.

  He grinned. "Got me figured out, haven't you, Prin­cess?"

  Adele sat in the chair on the left, poured the tea from a silver pot into the two china cups, then held up one of the cups and saucers to Matt. He sat across from her and ac­cepted the offering.

  "Did you get in touch with Mr. Sanders?" Adele sipped her tea, which was delicious, mild, with just a hint of mint.

  "Yeah. He'd already heard about what happened here last night and is holding a press conference in a couple of hours."

  "What does he intend to say? Surely he won't accuse the Royalists. We don't have any proof yet and—"

  "Calm down, honey." Matt placed his cup and saucer on the tea table. "Sanders is going to say that two un­known gunmen crashed the party, one of them shot Theo, and the incident is under investigation. You won't be men­tioned, other than to say that you were one of the guests at the party."

  Adele took a deep, calming breath. "I suppose I should telephone my father to let him know I'm all right."

  "He'll want to know when you're coming home."

  "Yes, I'm sure he will. And he'll probably want to speak to you, too."

  "Should I tell him that you were the target, not Theo? That the gunmen's goal was to abduct you?"

  Would her father believe Matt? she wondered. Why shouldn't he? Why should it be so difficult for him to believe the truth? After all, what reason would Matt have to lie?

  "I'll tell him and you can confirm it." Adele finished off her tea, set down the cup and saucer and rushed over to the bedside table. After lifting the telephone receiver, she dialed her father's private number. Lord Burhardt an­swered. "This is Princess Adele. I wish to speak to my father. Immediately."