The Princess's Bodyguard

by Beverly Barton

  "Yeah, honey, the operative word there is if."

  "If the cost is bothering you, don't concern yourself. I shall pay for the rings."

  "With what? I thought you were short on cash."

  "I'll simply ask Dia to extend my loan."

  "Sure, why not? What's a few more thousand to a woman married to a billionaire?''

  "You really do have a thing about wealthy people, don't you?"

  Damn! Why hadn't he just kept his mouth shut? "Yeah, I told you I did."

  "Don't you think it's time you moved past those child­hood insecurities and prejudices?''

  "I'll make you a deal, honey. I'll think about giving rich, powerful, snobbish people the benefit of the doubt, if you'll come down off your high horse for a while and start acting like a woman instead of a princess."

  Adele stared at him, her expression one of sur­prise. . . even shock. As if he had slapped her. Hell, what had he said? Why was she acting so odd?

  "I believe my actions this morning proved to you that I can be a woman. A woman with needs and desires." When Matt came toward her, she held up a restraining hand. "But my duties as a princess must, at this time in my life, come first. I do not have the luxury of. . .of not acting like a princess."

  Holy Moses! He'd made of mess of it now. Why couldn't he get it through his thick skull that Adele was, first and foremost, the heir to the throne of Orlantha? She might be a gorgeous, desirable woman, who had him tied in knots and made him so horny he was half out of his mind, but she was no ordinary lady. She was a princess. A real, live, honest-to-God princess. And a guy like him didn't have a prayer with a woman like her.

  "I apologize," Matt said. "I guess I'd like to forget who you really are and what's at stake here."

  Tears misted her eyes. "Yes. . .I understand. Some-times I wish that I could forget who I am and what my obliga­tions are."

  Theo Constantine arrived home by ambulance to much fanfare. A horde of international reporters had been hound­ing the villa for more than twelve hours—ever since Doran Sanders's press conference alerted the world that Theo had been shot by unknown assailants in his own home, during a private party. And the fact that Princess Adele had been present only added fuel to the news people's fiery deter­mination to get a story. The first reporters had shown up late yesterday afternoon. Local people from the Dareh newspaper and television station. By dawn this morning the villa had been surrounded. Matt had put the guards on alert and had notified the local authorities, who had sent several policemen to oversee the vast horde.

  The ambulance came to a slow, even stop in front of the villa, and the attendants hopped out and hurriedly opened the back doors. After assisting Dia, they rolled Theo out and carried him inside on the stretcher. The min­ute they were behind closed doors, Theo ordered them to help him to his feet.

  "Theo, please, darling." Dia fluttered around him. "You promised Dr. Arvanitidhis that you would go straight to bed and—"

  "I told the doctor what he wanted to hear." Once they had him on his feet, Theo waved away the attendants. "I refuse to be treated like an invalid." Theo held out his hand to Matt, who moved forward and put his arm around Theo's waist to support him. "See me to my office." He turned to Dia. "I'm sure you and Adele have a great deal to discuss about the wedding tomorrow."

  "But Theo—"

  "Go, woman!" Theo reached out and caressed his wife's cheek. "I promise to lie down on the chaise in the library and do little more than issue orders to Matt."

  "You promise?'' Dia asked for his reassurance.

  Theo smiled. "Of course. I promise."

  Once safely ensconced in his library, with the door closed and the two men alone, Theo kept his promise and allowed Matt to lead him to the chaise. He stretched out, then glanced around the room.

  "It is strange, is it not, that a man takes his life for granted," Theo said. "I have always been a lucky man. Born under a lucky star. I have great wealth. Power. The respect of my peers. And look at my wife. . .my daughter. Could any man ask for more?"

  "You've sure got it all," Matt agreed.

  Theo looked Matt square in the eyes. "My arrogance has made me foolhardy. I truly believed I and my family were safe here on Golnar, that despite my great wealth, I was immune to danger here on this island that my family has ruled for several generations."

  "I see you've been doing some thinking while you were in the hospital."

  "I will not take my safety or the safety of my family for granted. Not ever again." Theo shook his head sadly. "I did not want Phila to grow up surrounded by guards, but. . ." Theo sighed. "These local men that I hired are adequate, but they lack the sharp skills of true profession­als. It was you and Ni—Khalid, who acted quickly the night I was shot. I need the men who protect my family to be better trained than these locals."

  "So hire guys from Athens or Rome or—"

  "You misunderstand," Theo said. "I want my own peo­ple around me. Men from Golnar. Men that I trust implic­itly. But I want them properly trained. Would the Dundee Agency send several agents here to train my men?"

  "Why not send them to the U.S. for training?" Matt suggested. "Send two at a time to Atlanta for a six-week period, and that would leave four here with you and your family." Matt sat on the edge of Theo's massive desk. "Unless you know of some reason any of you are in im­mediate danger—"

  "No, no." Theo shook his head. "I know of no reason. But I have learned—the hard way, as you Americans say—that often someone else's danger can affect me and mine."

  "Adele would never have come here if she'd thought she was putting anyone's life at risk."

  Theo grinned. "Not even the pretense any longer, huh, my friend?"

  "What?"

  "Adele. Not Princess. Not Her Highness."

  Matt shrugged. "Sometimes it just slips out. I forget."

  "But of course you should refer to her as Adele. After all, tomorrow she will become your wife."

  "In name only."

  "Ah, is that what you and she are telling yourselves?''

  "It's what we've agreed to and—"

  "I fell in love with Dia the first moment I saw her at the palace in Erembourg. I knew immediately that I must have her." Theo laughed. "Of course, it was weeks later that I understood sex would not be enough to satisfy me. I was hopelessly besotted with the lady, and she knew within a few days that I was hers forever."

  "It's not like that with Adele. . .with the princess and me."

  Theo lifted his eyebrows skeptically.

  "Yeah, okay, we're attracted to each other," Matt ad­mitted. "But that's as far as it goes. Besides, can you see me actually being her prince consort? I'm a white-trash redneck from Kentucky whose father and grandfather and great-grandfather were all coal miners."

  "My great-grandfather was a fisherman," Theo said. "Matt, Matt, my new friend, my good friend, if I were King Leopold, I would much prefer to see my daughter bring some fresh, vital blood into the family than to see her marry some insipid, inbred aristocrat." Theo patted his chest with his clenched fist. "I would say to myself, 'Think what fine, strong grandsons this American stud will father.' I would welcome you as my daughter's husband."

  "God, Theo, you could sell air conditioners to Eski­mos."

  "I could do what?" A puzzled look crossed Theo's face.

  "Never mind," Matt said. "It was a compliment. But you're forgetting a couple of things."

  "What would that be?"

  "Number one—you aren't King Leopold. And number two—Adele and I are not in love."

  "Yes, I see your point," Theo said. "But you are get­ting married tomorrow. And tomorrow evening there will be a wedding night. Who is to say how you and she will feel after. . .once you are husband and wife?"

  Chapter 12

  Adele looked at the ring on her finger. A square-cut ruby surrounded by small diamonds and set in platinum. When Matt had knocked on her door shortly before bedtime last night, she had thought he was simply checking on her be­fore go
ing to bed in his room adjacent to hers. With one hand braced against the door frame, he'd leaned toward her and held out his open palm, showing her the ring.

  "It seems your friend Dia was one step ahead of us," Matt had said. "She knew you loved rubies and thought a ruby-and-diamond engagement ring would be something you'd like. After dinner tonight, when she asked to speak to me alone, she gave me this."

  It seemed that Dia had thought of everything to make this day as perfect as any real wedding might have been, if it had been put together on the spur-of-the-moment. When Adele had mentioned this fact at dinner last evening, Theo laughed and told Adele the wedding had been a god­send for Dia and him.

  "Planning your wedding gave my wife something to distract her and keep her from smothering me with too much attention while I was in the hospital," Theo had told them before he turned and gazed lovingly at Dia. "As much as I like your attention, my love, I prefer to receive it when I am able to fully appreciate it."

  Everyone had understood Theo's meaning, but no one commented, not even Dia, who'd simply blushed like an innocent.

  Today, as Adele inspected the chapel on the Constantine estate, she could hardly believe her eyes. Small, able to hold no more than twenty or thirty people at most, the interior of the Mediterranean-style chapel was decorated with cream-colored roses and satin ribbons. The dark wooden pews were laced with delicate cream satin ribbons that ended in large bows at the end of each pew. A white cloth floor runner led her eye up the center aisle. Afternoon sunshine shimmered through the two stained-glass win­dows, filling the room with rainbows of light.

  Why had Dia gone to so much trouble for a marriage destined to be annulled within months, perhaps even within weeks? When this was all over, Adele didn't want to have beautiful memories haunting her. Couldn't Dia un­derstand why she'd requested a simple wedding ceremony without any fanfare, with only a judge and not a minister or priest to officiate? The less this seemed like a real wed­ding, the easier it would be to forget.

  Dia came up behind Adele and placed her arm around Adele's shoulders. "What do you think? Do you like it? I bought out every florist on Golnar to get enough cream roses."

  "It's lovely." She turned to her friend, wrapped her arms around her and hugged her fiercely.

  Dia pulled free, grasped Adele's shoulders and looked directly at her. "You're crying. Oh, please, don't cry. I'm sorry if I was a bit too extravagant. I know you said sim­ple, but I couldn't allow you to get married without flow­ers. . . without—" Dia snapped her fingers, and a servant girl came forward with a bouquet of cream roses in her hand. "This is your bridal bouquet. It's quite small. Noth­ing elaborate."

  Adele accepted the bouquet from the servant girl, who bowed and ran away quickly. "Please tell me that you didn't hire a photographer or put together a reception."

  Dia had the decency to bow her head.

  "Oh, you didn't."

  Dia lifted her eyes first, smiled meekly, then lifted her head and said, "Trust me, Adele, despite what you think right now, you will want to remember this day."

  "A photographer?"

  Dia nodded. "People won't believe the wedding is real if you don't have pictures."

  "A reception, too?"

  "Only a small one. Very intimate. Just us. I did not invite outsiders."

  "Thank God for that, at least."

  "Come back to the house," Dia said. "You must change into your wedding outfit. Madame Vasilis finished the alternations only moments ago. It will fit you to per­fection."

  "Thank you, Dia. For everything."

  "You deserve a royal wedding with all the trimmings," Dia told her. "King Leopold should walk you down the aisle at the Erembourg Cathedral, with the organ playing and the choir singing and—"

  "I shall have that type of wedding someday. When I marry the man destined to be my mate for life," Adele said, and even she detected the sad note in her voice.

  "Are you so very sure that Matt O'Brien is not that man?"

  "You know he isn't. Matt and I come from two different worlds. Even if we were in love—which we are not—there is no way a marriage between us would work."

  "Why, because you don't think Matt is good enough for you?"

  "What a terrible thing to say."

  "Is it true?"

  "It might have been when I first met him," Adele ad­mitted. "But not now. Oh, I know I'm a terrible snob, but. . . It really doesn't matter. The truth is that Matt would be miserable trying to fit into my world. Can you see him at court? He would be bored to death."

  "It would seem you've given the matter a great deal of thought."

  "Perhaps I have, but you shouldn't read anything into that admission. I am not in love with Matt O'Brien."

  "If you say so." Dia smiled.

  Two hours later Adele and Matt stood before Judge Cas­par and exchanged their vows. The judge spoke English with a thick accent and kept grinning at them as he per­formed the ceremony. Matt wore a new black suit, a white shirt and a striped gray tie. Theo had ordered the new suit for Matt, and the tailor had come along for last-minute alterations when he'd delivered it early this morning. Shortly before they left the villa to walk the quarter mile to the chapel, Dia had pinned a boutonniere on his lapel, kissed his cheek and thanked him for marrying her dear friend. Dia had kept pace with the rapid speed of Theo's wheelchair, and Phila had sat in her father's lap for the ride, while Ms. Sheridan followed several steps behind the family.

  Although Theo wasn't able to make it through the cer­emony standing, he served as Matt's best man seated at his side. Dia was Adele's matron of honor and had pre­ceded her down the aisle, right before Phila, who'd served as flower girl. The adorable child, decked out in a frilly pink dress, had strewn rose petals on the bride's path from doorway to altar. A middle-aged female harpist had played "Here Comes the Bride." It might be a make-believe mar­riage, Matt thought, but this wedding was all too real.

  Matt stared at Adele throughout the ceremony, memo­rizing her every feature, from the depth and clarity of her chocolate-brown eyes to the full lusciousness of her bow-shaped pink lips. He had wondered what she would wear, had even secretly hoped she would chose a traditional wedding gown. But she hadn't, and for the life of him he didn't know why he was disappointed. She looked gor­geous in a pink silk suit. No, not exactly pink. Sort of a reddish, purply pink. What had Dia called it? Fuchsia? What the hell sort of name was that for a color?

  Matt's gaze drifted upward, taking in the small diamond tiara his bride wore. A perfect match to her other diamond jewelry. Thank God this wasn't a real marriage. There was no way on earth he could afford to keep this woman in the style to which she was accustomed. He couldn't see her living in his Atlanta apartment, buying groceries at the supermarket and selecting her clothes in a department store.

  When it came time to exchange rings, Dia and Theo produced matching platinum bands, and within minutes those symbols of everlasting love were on the third fingers of Matt's and Adele's left hands. He continued holding her hand as the judge pronounced them husband and wife. Well, it was legal now. Princess Adele was officially Mrs. Matthew O'Brien. Heaven help them both.

  Matt could feel the slight trembling in Adele's hand. She was as unsure as he—and probably just as scared. She was looking at him, her eyes misted with tears, her lips slightly parted. Kiss her, you idiot, he told himself. Finish this thing the right way. But if he kissed her, could he make it a brief, meaningless gesture? That's what she would expect, wasn't it?

  Matt pulled Adele tenderly into his arms; she went will­ingly. Then he lowered his head and brushed his lips against hers. She sucked in a deep breath.

  What the hell, he thought. She wouldn't kill him in front of witnesses, would she? Matt took her mouth passion­ately, and when he finally let her come up for air, Adele was breathless for a couple of seconds and slightly un­steady on her feet.

  The judge chuckled and said, "I present to you Mr. and Mrs. Matthew O'Brien."

  Smiling
gleefully, Dia hugged first Adele and then Matt. Phila jumped up and down in childish delight. After shak­ing Matt's hand, Theo slapped him on the back. And the photographer snapped picture after picture. The happy cou­ple kept their phony smiles in place long enough to suit Dia, who gave the photographer orders to take plenty of pictures at the reception.

  The others went ahead of them, leaving the newlyweds alone.

  "We should return to the villa," Adele said. "Dia has arranged a small reception."

  "She's a good person," Matt said, "your friend, Dia. I like her."

  Adele exited the chapel at Matt's side. "She likes you, too."

  An odd expression crossed Adele's face. She quickened her pace. He rushed to keep up with her along the rock pathway, then continued quietly at her side for several minutes. When they neared the villa, Matt reached out, squeezed Adele's hand and halted for a moment.

  "Are you all right?" he asked.

  "Yes, I'm fine. Really."

  "Not the wedding day you dreamed of, huh? And cer­tainly no Prince Charming for a groom."

  ''Don't. . .'' She pulled away from him and hurried along the walkway in front of him.

  "Adele!" He caught up with her before she reached the villa, grabbed her hand and whirled her around to face him. Tears trickled down her cheeks. He wiped away the tears with his fingertips. "Don't cry, honey. It'll be all right. I promise. I'll make sure everything comes out just the way you want it."

  "Oh, Matt." She cried even harder then.

  Women! He'd never understand any of them, least of all his blushing bride. Correction. Make that his weeping bride.

  He didn't know what to do, so he did what he wanted to do. He put his arms around her and kissed her. She whimpered a few times, then flung her arms around his neck and put everything she had into returning his kiss. And she just about knocked his socks off.

  A long, loud whistle broke them apart. Matt lifted his head and glanced over Adele's shoulder. Waiting outside the villa's entrance, Dia and Theo, still sitting in his wheel­chair, were watching the newlyweds.