Protecting the Princess (The Royals of Aldonia Book 2)

by Nadine Millard

  There were breads, cheeses, cured meats. One pot contained tea leaves. Another, an assortment of biscuits and little pastries.

  “I have a bit of a sweet tooth,” she confessed with a charming blush.

  Jacob’s eyes watched the trail of pink start at her throat and move slowly to her cheeks.

  Stop it, he told himself sternly.

  Moving his eyes back to the contents of the bag, Jacob frowned slightly.

  There was enough for two, maybe three days.

  His guess was that she wouldn’t go shopping in the little hamlet the coach had arrived in.

  And she didn’t seem like she was planning on going home any time soon.

  “You know there isn’t enough to feed you here for long? The food you’ve brought will spoil easily, if it hasn’t already.”

  “I know that,” she snapped, and he realised she was annoyed again.

  Perhaps she was just hungry.

  Without another word, Jacob set about preparing a meal while he waited for the water on the fire to boil.

  When it started to bubble, he made tea for both of them, even though he despised the stuff, then poured the remaining water into a clean bowl.

  “Can you sit by the fire?” he asked, aware that she’d watched him in complete silence.

  Wordlessly, she stood and grabbed the linens, then moved to take the seat across from him.

  “It’s easier to see by the firelight,” he explained, even though she hadn’t asked him anything.

  Jacob felt suddenly nervous. This felt—intimate. And while that wouldn’t usually bother him, in fact he’d quite enjoy it normally, with the princess it was entirely too tempting. Too dangerous.

  She still didn’t speak, just stared at him with those wide chocolate-coloured eyes.

  Using Herculean strength, Jacob focused his mind on the task at hand.

  He lifted a not altogether steady hand to her face and brushed a curl back from where the blood had dried at her temple.

  Her slight wince reminded him that she was hurt and scared, and that served to keep his mind on the task and not on the satiny smoothness of her skin.

  Jacob worked diligently and soundlessly, dipping a linen into the hot water and gently wiping at the cut.

  To his intense relief, it was more a scrape than anything else, and it wasn’t deep enough to cause concern. Though there was a goodly sized bump to show for her efforts.

  When he was done, Jacob risked eye contact.

  Once again, the impact of her wide, innocent gaze was like a punch to the gut.

  He cleared his throat again.

  “I think you’ll live.” He smiled, ignoring the rough quality to his voice. “But no more boxing matches with trees.”

  She laughed softly, her breath fanning against his cheek, and desire slammed into him like a bolt of lightning.

  Jacob jumped to his feet and busied himself with cleaning up the mess of used linens and disposing of the water.

  When he felt as though he could breathe without wanting to devour the princess, he returned and took his seat across from her.

  “Are you hungry?” he asked wryly, as he took in her look of longing as she stared at the spread before her.

  “Famished.” She grinned.

  “You don’t mind sharing?” he asked as he pushed a cup of tea toward her.

  She sipped at the liquid before releasing a sigh of contentment.

  “This is wonderful,” she said effusively. “And no, I don’t mind sharing. It seems the least I can do.”

  Jacob felt strangely content that they’d reached a sort of comfortable understanding.

  They ate in companionable silence for a moment or two, and he was relieved to see some of the pallor leave her face.

  “Feeling better?” he asked when she sat back.

  “Much. I didn’t realise how hungry I was. Or how tired.”

  She flicked a strand of hair over her shoulder and Jacob found himself staring at it, mesmerized by the way it bounced back into place.

  “W-well, you’ve had a trying day,” he answered gruffly. “A good night’s sleep will see you to rights.”

  His words seemed to freeze the very air around the princess, and her eyes snapped up to his, huge and untrusting.

  Jacob couldn’t blame her. Didn’t blame her. But he also didn’t relish the idea of sleeping under the stars.

  He would. He had, in fact, many times.

  But it wouldn’t be his first choice of venue.

  “I’ll just tend to the fire then leave you to sleep,” he said to put her mind at ease.

  “Are you leaving?” she blurted suddenly, blushing scarlet under his stare.

  Jacob wondered at the question and her reaction to it.

  “I’m going to stay outside. Just for tonight,” he assured her hurriedly. “Once I check your head in the morning, I will leave you in peace.”

  She didn’t need to know that he’d be close by. He could keep her safe and remain undetected for as long as necessary.

  “Oh.” She was still blushing, and her nerves seemed to have returned in spades, if the hand wringing was anything to go by. Jacob wished he knew what she was thinking.

  But he was rather enjoying the ceasefire and had no wish to anger her again.

  He went over and added some more hastily gathered sticks and twigs to the fire. Tomorrow, he’d make sure to get her some proper firewood.

  Turning back to face her, Jacob felt more awkward than he should.

  He was one of Aldonia’s best, most sophisticated agents.

  Why then was he acting like a green lad at a brothel?

  “If you need me, I’ll be right outside,” he said softly into the ever-growing tension.

  “T-thank you,” she mumbled, dropping her gaze to his rumpled cravat.

  “Well, goodnight then, Miss Royal.”

  He waited but she didn’t respond, so he turned and walked to the door.

  Just as he turned the handle, however, she called out.

  “Mr. Lauer?”

  Jacob turned his head back, his heart twisting as he took in the sight of her standing in the firelight.

  She didn’t speak further, so he raised a brow and waited.

  “You—” Her tongue darted out to wet her lips, and Jacob’s gut clenched in reaction.

  He had to get the hell out of there. Fast.

  “You will be just outside?”

  And then Jacob realised.

  She wanted him here.

  Rationally, he knew it was likely because she’d never been completely alone before. And because the forest in the dark was a frightening place. Especially when one only had a rickety old cottage for shelter.

  Yet, this awareness still didn’t stop the burst of pleasure he felt at knowing she wanted him around.

  “Just outside,” he confirmed softly.

  Her smile had him clenching his fists against emotions he had no business feeling.

  Jacob sketched a quick bow then moved swiftly outside before he did something irredeemably foolish.

  But he couldn’t keep the smile from his face.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “Good morning.”

  Harriet screeched in fright as the door swung open with a bang and sunlight poured into the darkened room.

  She leapt from the bed then immediately regretted it when her head began to swim.

  Sitting back down with a thump, she managed to scowl in Mr. Lauer’s direction.

  All night she’d been unable to sleep, thinking about him being outside.

  Though she was loath to admit it, even to herself, the knowledge that he was out there watching over her had made Harriet feel safe and secure.

  She knew that with those broad shoulders and that aura of power, he would be able to take care of anyone and anything he set his mind to.

  But along with the safety came the uncertainty.

  The feelings he evoked in her—aside from anger, irritation, and exasperation—were confusi
ng. New and dangerous and most inconvenient.

  That was why she’d tossed and turned on the surprisingly comfortable cot. Why she’d been unable to sleep until the sounds outside the cottage told her dawn was breaking.

  Even when she’d slept, she’d dreamt of a golden-haired Adonis with a charming grin and an interfering nature.

  And now here he was, bursting into her solitude and looking far better than anyone had a right to at this hour of the morning.

  “I didn’t wake you, did I?” he asked, all joviality.

  She felt like scratching his eyes out.

  “Yes, you did, as it happens.”

  Her tart response only seemed to amuse him, and that dimpled grin that had sent her brain scrambling the day before made an appearance.

  “You’re not a morning person, Miss Royal?” he quipped.

  Harriet chose to ignore him.

  She stood up carefully, waiting to make sure the room didn’t tilt.

  Mr. Lauer seemed to notice her hesitance and immediately, all traces of joking were gone. His bright blue eyes darkened with concern, as did his expression.

  “Are you well, Miss Royal? Is it your head?”

  “I’m quite well,” she responded, trying and failing to stifle a yawn. “I just didn’t sleep very well and wasn’t expecting to be woken so loudly.”

  The grin reappeared.

  “My, my. Aren’t we grumpy in the morning?”

  Harriet barely supressed a growl.

  How could she have been dreaming of those eyes as they’d sparkled down at her? Those hands as he’d caressed her face while tending to her cut?

  He was the most exasperating person she’d ever met.

  “Did you want something?” she asked piously, refusing to be goaded into losing her temper.

  To Harriet’s surprise, his eyes darkened even further until the blue was almost black, and she felt the inexplicable urge to fan herself.

  Within seconds however, the affable rogue was back, and Harriet was left feeling vaguely unsettled.

  “I think a cup of tea and some breakfast will cheer you right up,” he said pleasantly, as he picked up the water bucket and began to make his way back outside. “Do relax, Miss Royal. I’ll have you fed and watered in no time.”

  Either ignoring or not hearing her gasp of outrage, he swept outside, leaving her to stare after him.

  All of last night’s softening toward him went out the window.

  His high-handedness was as bad as ever and once more, Harriet was left feeling as though her adventure were being taken over by the arrogant cad.

  She stood from the bed and stomped over to the fireplace. She might as well make herself useful, since her life was being decided for her yet again.

  Harriet was cleaning out the grate, being careful with the still-smoking embers, when the door opened once more and was filled with the figure of Mr. Lauer. He made the already small space seem tiny, filling every part of it with his presence.

  “What are you doing?”

  Harriet ignored the question, tried to ignore the presence of the domineering man.

  A fete nigh on impossible to achieve, since he’d just come and crouched beside her.

  “Here, let me do that,” he said as he reached out to take the small shovel from her hand.

  Harriet gritted her teeth as he gently jostled her out of the way.

  “Why don’t you find something to eat. Or fill the kettle?”

  He smiled at her as though he were a kindly governess, and Harriet’s temper flared.

  This was the exact sort of thing she’d run away from.

  She stood up and marched over to the valise filled with her clothing, snatching up a clean muslin and fresh undergarments.

  She rooted around in the bottom of the bag before pulling a bar of lavender-scented soap from its cloth. Next she snatched up her comb, tooth powder, and boar-hair toothbrush.

  Finally, she shoved her feet into the kid boots she’d dropped by the bed and marched toward the door, her arms filled with her belongings.

  “What are you doing?”

  Mr. Lauer’s surprised question stopped Harriet in her tracks, and she turned to glare at him.

  “Since I seem to have lost the run of my cottage to an interloper, I thought I would go and bathe in the lake. I trust that you don’t expect to help me with that?”

  Once again, his eyes darkened at her question and raked her from head to toe. Harriet’s heart stuttered then slammed against her chest, her entire body heating under that molten scrutiny.

  “Of course not.” His tone was husky and deep, and Harriet felt as though it burrowed under her skin to run along her veins like potent brandy.

  “Well, good,” she managed to huff, but her voice was high and breathless, even to her own ears.

  There was a painfully tense moment where they stared at each other.

  Harriet had no idea what Mr. Lauer was thinking, but he probably wasn’t wondering what it would be like to kiss her.

  Not that she was thinking that about him, of course.

  Feeling her cheeks heat once again, Harriet turned tail and fled from the cottage, putting some much-needed distance between Mr. Lauer and her treacherous body.

  Jacob started a fire, collected fresh water from a stream that ran down from the nearby mountain and put it on to heat before he even contemplated going to check on Princess Harriet.

  He knew she was going to wash and change her clothing, and there was no way in hell he’d survive coming upon her in the middle of any of that.

  She was angry. For a change, he thought sarcastically.

  Jacob wracked his brain thinking what he could have done to upset her this time, but he was stumped.

  Perhaps she was just highly strung all the time.

  Though she did say she hadn’t slept.

  Well, the water she used to wash herself with would certainly cool her temper. Jacob had felt its iciness only an hour ago when he’d bathed himself.

  He set out the last of her bread, cheese, and cured meat on the table.

  One meal left. That was it. And plenty of tea.

  No more linens. No medical supplies.

  The reminder of her injury sent him out of the cottage and in search of the contrary royal before she hurt herself further.

  He’d only walked a few minutes, following the fresh prints lest she had gotten it into her head to run off again, away from the lake. But before long, he arrived at the small lake he’d washed in earlier.

  He steeled himself for what he might find. If she was naked, he’d simply have to avert his eyes and be a professional.

  Jacob placed his hands on his hips and lifted his face to the sky, breathing deep and preparing for whatever he might find in front of him.

  “What are you doing?”

  Jacob screeched and nearly jumped out of his skin as the voice sounded right beside him.

  He turned to glare down at the princess, unimpressed with her giggling.

  “I’m sorry,” she gasped. “I didn’t mean to frighten you. That scream could wake the dead.”

  Jacob scowled his displeasure.

  “Excuse me, madam,” he bit out. “I did not scream.”

  “Oh no?” she laughed. “What would you call it then?”

  Jacob eyed her, singularly unimpressed. She had scared the damned wits out of him. And he had not screamed.

  “I yelled,” he sniffed. “In a manly fashion.”

  For some reason, that just made her laugh harder.

  Jacob wasn’t used to feeling embarrassed, and it wasn’t an emotion he enjoyed.

  But as he eyed the freshly scrubbed princess with her rosy cheeks and that glorious hair only half-tied with a ribbon making her look innocently lovely, he felt his own lips twitch in response to her laughter.

  At least she didn’t appear to be angry at him anymore.

  “I’ve left a pot of water on the fire, you know.” He tried to bring things back to some sort of sensibility
, but his words set her off into peals of laughter again.

  “How is that funny?” he demanded.

  “You sound just like one of our cooks, Mrs. Bremmer,” she giggled. “Scolding me about the water and screeching like you’ve found a mouse in your kitchen.”

  Jacob had long since had a reputation of almost mythical success when it came to ladies. Hans had often complained that one flash of his dimples had even the most sophisticated woman swooning like a schoolgirl.

  Never had he been compared to a screeching cook with a rodent problem.

  And he didn’t much care for it.

  Desperate to ease some of his humiliation, Jacob tried to assert some authority.

  “Let’s get you back to the cottage so I can look at your head. Then once you’ve eaten, we will need to think about our next steps because you are out of supplies already.”

  He watched her expression go from amused to bemused, to downright furious. The sparkle of humour in her eyes changed to a glint of anger.

  And once more, those tell-tale hands planted themselves on her hips, which was quite the fete considering one of them held her belongings all bundled up in yesterday’s dress.

  “I beg your pardon?”

  Damn. He was in trouble again.

  He’d never clashed so frequently with another person in his life. Not even enemies he’d interrogated, or captors who’d interrogated him.

  “What?” he asked defensively. Perhaps even a little petulantly, he acknowledged. But only to himself.

  “I don’t need you checking my head or deciding when I should eat. Or what I should eat. Or how I should eat.”

  Her voice grew shriller with every word, but he felt it best not to flinch at the tone.

  “And what will you do?” he asked, his own temper sparking to life. Never had he met a more infuriating female in his life. “Starve to death?”

  “Of course not,” she bit out before she suddenly took off, marching back toward the cottage.

  “Then what?” he demanded, easily keeping pace with her shorter strides. “Because out here, you need my help and you’re getting it whether you want it or not.”

  They reached the cottage and Princess Harriet threw her bundle haphazardly on the bed before spinning to glower at him.

  “You can’t help me against my will. I forbid it,” she yelled.