Saving the Princess

by Helena Newbury

  I had no idea what a rib shack was but, as soon as we got inside, I loved it. It was loud and dark, lit only by dangling bulbs and the occasional neon beer sign. The tables and chairs were bare wood, the floor was bare boards and everyone was gnawing meat from shining bones, dripping with dark sauce. The most amazing smell filled the room: succulent pork and beef and the heady tang of that dark sauce. My mouth started watering immediately.

  “Your Highness,” whispered Emerik in my ear. “I’m not sure that this establishment—”

  “Don’t call me Your Highness,” I told him. “And it’ll do perfectly well.”

  Caroline whooped and pointed. “They have a jukebox!” We pooled our loose change and she queued up a full hour’s worth of American pop. She loved everything about this country. While I’d been getting changed, she’d hit the tiny store next to the rib shack and loaded up with US candy bars and magazines.

  We ordered groaning platefuls of steaming ribs, sticky with sauce, bowls of French fries and mac ‘n cheese, coleslaw and grilled corn, all washed down with icy, crisp beer. None of us had eaten since dinner on the plane, the previous night. We demolished everything.

  It was the first time we’d been able to relax and all of us needed it. I saw Garrett’s broad back lose a little of its tension and even Emerik relented and unbuttoned the top button of his collar. Caroline, who seemed to see this whole thing as an adventure, laughed and chatted and spun a story to a neighboring table about us being tourists from Italy. It made me wish that I could be as free and fun-loving as her. The whole experience was a reminder of everything I’d missed out on in life: food and beer with friends, being able to just wander about casually and enjoy life, without having everything pre-planned and security checked and assessed by Aleksander and his PR people.

  I was on the run. But in some ways, it was the freest I’d ever been.

  Garrett looked amazing. The new shirt he’d put on was blue and black plaid and it set off his tan skin and those amazing eyes. He’d rolled up the sleeves and my eyes kept being drawn to his thickly muscled forearms as they rested on the table. Every time I looked at them, I imagined myself being lifted right off my feet—it would be so easy for him. Lifted and pressed up against a wall, or tossed on his bed, my jeans peeled down my legs—

  I forced myself to look away but it was no good. If I looked at his collar, I imagined myself sliding my hands down under his shirt, tracing the hard slabs of his chest. If I looked at his wide shoulders, that brought home the raw size and power of him, how he’d loom over me, blocking out the light as he lowered himself between my thighs. And if I looked up into those clear blue eyes….

  If I looked into his eyes, I was lost.

  What had nearly happened in his doorway had changed everything. All my fantasies had gone super-high-definition, so real they left my heart racing and my breathing tight. Worse, I knew it could have happened. Could still happen, if I just—

  No! Garrett belonged in this world of pickup trucks and ribs and beer and friends. I had to keep reminding myself that I was only visiting. “Do you have any ideas for getting us home?” I asked.

  Garrett shook his head. “Nope,” he rumbled. “But now you’re safe, I’m thinking on it.” He dropped his eyes as soon as he’d said it, as if the idea of him thinking was ridiculous. My chest contracted in sympathy and then hot anger flared up inside: people had been underestimating this man for so long, seeing him as a big, dumb brute, that they’d even gotten him believing he was stupid.

  Caroline grabbed my wrist. “Dance!”

  I was still saying what when she hauled me out of my seat and pulled me stumbling into the open space by the bar. “Dance!” she said again.

  And she started dancing to the music from the jukebox. I stared. It wasn’t like any dancing I was used to but then I’d only ever danced at formal balls.

  “What?” asked Caroline. “This is how they do it here.”

  I watched at her circling hips and thrusting ass. “Are you sure?” But I joined her. The opportunity was too good to miss. I never got to dance at home. Certainly not like this.

  “So. Garrett.” Caroline’s eyes were gleaming expectantly.

  I flushed down to my roots. “What about Garrett?” I loved the sound of his name.

  “Don’t ‘what about Garrett’ me, you’ve been looking at him like you wanted to hoist up your skirts and climb on top of him.”

  I went even redder. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  “What happened out in the desert?”

  “Nothing!”

  “Has anything else happened?”

  I thought of that moment in his doorway. “No,” I lied.

  “He’s from Texas,” said Caroline dreamily. “That’s like America, only more so.”

  “What about you?” I asked, desperately trying to change the subject.

  She gave me a sly look.

  “Someone back home?” I asked, excited. I ran through the possibilities in my head. I hoped it wasn’t Jakov, because I’d seen him looking with puppy-dog eyes at Simone, one of my father’s maids.

  “Maybe,” she said airily. And we both grinned. This is what I love about Caroline: she makes me feel normal. She has to call me Your Highness when other people are around but when we’re in private she’s like a sister.

  Then I glanced at Garrett...and swallowed. His eyes were locked on my hips as they gyrated, on the denim stretched tight over my ass as it thrust back and forth. I’d never seen him look quite so...hungry. And I felt the answering swell of heat in my core, sliding down to my groin to turn into slick wetness.

  “That doesn’t look like ‘nothing,’” whispered Caroline in my ear.

  I flushed again and led her back to the table. Garrett’s eyes tracked me the whole way, the heat of his gaze burning through my clothes and melting my core. I’d never been looked at that way before. Most men didn’t dare to lust after a princess so openly, or they thought I was too noble, too innocent and sweet.

  Garrett looked at me as if I was special, as if I was up in the clouds. But underneath there was that fierce, lashing heat that wanted to grab me and drag me right down to earth, pin me with a kiss and rip my dress off and—

  Our eyes met. Locked. I caught my breath. We stared at one another for one, two, three beats of my racing heart. Then we finally managed to tear our eyes away.

  Garrett leaned across the table towards Emerik. “So...you’ve guarded Kristina for a long time?” His voice was still gruff, but I could hear him trying to sound friendly. He was doing his best to get along with the older man, and I gave Emerik a sharp look: play nice!

  “I’ve been with her family for three decades,” said Emerik. “It’s a great honor.” He still sounded a little stiff, as if a conversation with Garrett was beneath him, but he couldn’t stop the emotion creeping into his voice on the last few words. It really was a great honor for him.

  “And Jakov joined us just a few months ago,” I told Garrett. “Graduated top of his class in the army. The youngest ever to qualify as a royal guard.”

  Jakov flushed, nodded his thanks and excused himself to go to the bathroom. I sighed as I saw Emerik’s hate-filled gaze follow him all the way there.

  Garrett saw it too. “What am I missing? He seems like a good kid.”

  Emerik gave him a disparaging look. He was too polite to speak his mind, of course. So, with another sigh, I explained.

  “Jakov was born in Lakovia,” I said. “But his parents are from Garmania. Jakov was one of the first people with Garmanian heritage to enroll in the army. And the first to become a royal guard. It was hard for him: he had to train alongside men whose families had been killed in the war with Garmania. He still gets hate mail, every day, from people who see him as the enemy. But having him guard me is such an important symbol. It sends a message that it’s time to move on.”

  Emerik scowled, got up and stalked away.

  “But a lot of people aren’t ready to move on,” Garrett rumbled, wat
ching him.

  I nodded. Emerik never said anything openly against Jakov but everyone could feel the hate and distrust bubbling away just under the surface. They were rarely paired together: it just happened that they were on shift at the same time on the plane and now they were the only two guards left. “We can’t go back to all that,” I muttered, half to myself. It was warm in the rib shack but my skin suddenly felt chilled by memories of cold, damp stone. “I just want all of us to live in peace.” Then I shook my head and gave a tired laugh. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to get preachy.”

  But Garrett shook his head. “Didn’t sound preachy. Peace is good.”

  I could hear the pain in his voice. Peace was good...because he’d seen enough of the alternative. Our eyes met and he quickly looked down at the table. He already knew what I was going to ask him.

  “Everything you did on the plane and on the highway...you must have been a great soldier. Why did you quit?”

  He still wasn’t looking at me. “I didn’t quit. They discharged me,” he said at last. He spoke as if there was a huge weight pressing on his chest.

  Without thinking, I reached out and put my hand on his. I couldn’t stand to see him hurting like that. “What happened?” I whispered.

  “A mission went wrong,” he said. “We lost some people.” Then he shook his head: enough. His eyes flicked up to meet mine and there was such anger there I actually drew back, shocked. But it wasn’t flaring out at me. It was all turned inward, tearing away at himself. And I could feel how his whole body had locked up tight with emotion.

  It wasn’t that he wouldn’t talk about it. He couldn’t talk about it. God, there was so much going on under the surface of this gentle giant, so much people didn’t see. “I’m sorry,” I said.

  He nodded. Looked away, unable to meet my eyes.

  I thought of darkness and cold stone. My own memories of war and the nightmares they still brought. Garrett was my opposite. But what if we were more similar than either of us had thought?

  That night, I lay in bed unable to sleep. I tried one of the trashy magazines Caroline had lent me but eventually I slapped it down on the bedside table, nearly knocking over the lamp. There was too much going around my head: the plane, the attack on the convoy, Garrett….

  I squeezed my eyes shut. No! Don’t think about him sitting on the bed behind you, the mattress creaking under that big body. Those strong arms wrapping around you, making you feel safe. His lips at your ear, that deep Texas rumble as he tells you what he’s going to do to you….

  I opened my eyes and saw my pile of suitcases in the corner, each with their royal crest. When all this was over, I had to go back to the palace and be the Princess my people needed. I had to help my father, learn from him and, one day, take the crown and rule. I’d marry some man my mother found for me, someone suitable. That was my job.

  I glanced at the bathroom. What I really needed right now was a bath but the motel room only had a shower. At the palace, I had a big corner tub that I could happily spend a full hour in, the room lit with candles and the water fragrant with a special scented oil a local craftswoman made.

  I closed my eyes but, as soon as I saw darkness, I started to feel the cold stone under my hands, the damp in the air wetting my skin. That feeling of being utterly and completely alone. It becomes overwhelming in my nightmares but it’s there even when I’m awake. It’s always there. When I’m standing on a balcony, waving at a crowd. When I’m giving an interview on TV. Even when I’m in a room full of people.

  Except today—God, was it really only a day since I first woke up on the plane? Today, for a brief time, when he’d held me in his arms...I didn’t feel alone.

  After a long time, I slept. The nightmare came, as I knew it would. I was in the cell, running my fingers over the rough stone again and again just to give my mind some texture, some stimulation, in the absolute blackness. The lack of sound was the worst. No birds, no wind in the trees, nothing.

  I began to panic, the sound of my own frenzied breathing bouncing off the walls and reflecting back at me, making me panic even more. But this time...something was different. I was taking huge gasps, my mouth wide, but I wasn’t getting any air—

  I woke up and looked straight into the face of the man from the plane. I’d fallen asleep with the lamp on and its glow lit up his pale, tight skin, his hate-filled gray eyes.

  It isn’t over! Somehow, he’d found us again. I screamed...but nothing came out.

  He was straddling me, his weight on my chest and his hands wrapped around my throat. His thumbs were crushing my windpipe. I couldn’t breathe...or make a sound.

  I heard something outside. Voices. Garrett and Emerik, right outside my window! Help me! I thrashed with my arms and drummed my heels on the bed, but it made almost no noise.

  Garrett and Emerik kept talking, oblivious.

  I screamed but still nothing came out.

  My head started to feel light. I was dying.

  And they didn’t know anything was wrong.

  13

  Garrett

  My plan was to get some sleep for a few hours, then go and relieve Emerik on guard duty. But I spent the time tossing and turning. I told myself it was because the motel bed wasn’t big enough: my feet were almost hanging off the end. But in the corps, I’d learned to sleep anywhere. It wasn’t the damn bed. It was her.

  In a way, she was the opposite of everything I’d expected. I’d never met a politician before who was so genuinely passionate about peace. Most of them are happy to send thousands of grunts off to die just to make themselves look tough and get a boost in the polls. And I’d never expected someone from her background to be so down to earth and caring.

  But in other ways, she was exactly what I’d expected. She was everything a princess should be: beautiful and noble and... better. Better than the rest of us, in a way that makes you want to be better, too. I was crazy about her. Obsessed. That’s why what happened in my doorway was still spinning, nonstop, in my mind. I’d nearly tasted those sweet lips.

  But I couldn’t. I couldn’t get close to her, or she’d find out what a mess I was, inside. From now on, I’d make sure to keep my distance. I’d protect her, but that was it.

  To distract myself, I tried to figure out how to get her home while staying off the radar of whoever was trying to kill her. I sure as hell couldn’t put her on a commercial flight. Her name would make ten thousand computer screens light up at the FBI. Whoever was leaking information to the assassins would tell them, they’d sneak someone onto the plane again, and she’d be a sitting duck for eight hours. Or they could just plant a bomb on the plane. Three hundred passengers meant nothing to these people.

  It took me over an hour of wracking my brain, but finally, I got it. Barney. Barney could do it. It meant getting her to New York, a two thousand mile drive. But it would work.

  The downside of figuring it out was that my brain went right back to what happened in the doorway. What would have happened if I’d kissed her. The scent of her, warm and sweet, but with that coolness of mountain mist. The soft push of her breasts as I crushed her to me. Her panting as I pinned her up against the doorframe and unbuttoned her jeans. I’d slide a hand down the front, under her panties, and cup her. She’d moan and toss her head, that chestnut hair lashing my face—

  Under the covers I was achingly hard. The temptation to just keep thinking about her, to slip a hand down there and—

  No! Jesus, I wasn’t going to jerk off to her! I wasn’t some teenage kid and it didn’t seem right, with her sleeping just a few rooms away. I sprang out of bed and pulled on my clothes. If I couldn’t sleep, I might as well go relieve Emerik early.

  Outside, I walked down the line of rooms to where Emerik stood outside the Princess’s door. “Go get some rest,” I told him. “I’ll watch her, then Jakov can take a shift.”

  Emerik didn’t move. “I’m fine,” he said. “It’s my duty. You get some rest.”

  I frowned at him. Su
re, he was loyal, but I’d never known anyone argue with having their shift cut short. “Seriously,” I growled. “Go.”

  “Seriously,” he echoed, “No.”

  I frowned again and then tensed, staring at the Princess’s door. “Did you hear something?”

  He went silent for a moment and then shook his head. And I didn’t hear anything more, either. I relaxed. Just my imagination.

  “Go back to bed, Mr. Buchanan,” said Emerik. “I’ll be fine until Jakov takes over.” He glared at Jakov’s room.

  “You think she’s wrong about everyone living in peace, don’t you? You don’t trust him.”

  He looked me right in the eye. “I lost two nephews in the war, Mr. Buchanan. So, no. I don’t trust any Garmanian. No matter where they were born.”

  I shook my head sadly. I was trying to figure out what to say to the poor guy when I thought I heard a faint noise again. I put my hand on the door handle. “I’m going to check on her,” I told Emerik.

  He grabbed my wrist. “You most certainly are not! It’s forbidden for a commoner to be in the Princess’s room!” I opened my mouth to argue but he cut me off. “There’s only one door and one window in her room and I’ve been standing in front of them all night! She doesn’t need you!”

  I didn’t miss the way he said that last part. We glared at each other, our faces only a foot apart. But I could feel my neck going hot. He knew. Of course he did. Did you really think you were the first guy to fall for her? He probably sees this all the time.

  I dropped my eyes to the door handle. Had I really heard something? Or was I just looking for an excuse to open the door and see her again?

  I let go of the handle and stepped back. “Fine,” I grunted. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

  And I walked off towards my room.

  14

  Kristina

  I was dying. My vision was narrowing, a circle of light that darkened to gray and then to cold, empty black at the edges.