Loving the Princess

by A. C. Arthur

  Roland continued. “It doesn’t seem fake anymore. I see how you’re looking at her and I’ve seen you coming from her room every night this week. What the hell is going on?”

  Kris didn’t say a word but the way he was looking at Gary said he was thinking along the same lines as his brother.

  “There’s nothing going on. You’re trusting me to kill the son of a bitch threatening your family and that’s what I’m going to do. End of story,” Gary told them.

  “What if she wants it to be real?” Kris asked him. “I’ve observed how Sam’s looking at you lately and Landry has made a few comments that lead me to believe there’s more going on for Sam than what was originally planned. So I guess we’re both asking what your intentions are.”

  Gary took a deep breath and released it slowly. He thought about all the pressure his mother had placed on him to fall in love and get married and what a catastrophe that turned out to be with Tonya. He also recalled how brokenhearted his mother had been when his father died. “It’s like losing half of my soul,” she’d told him that night at the hospital after his father’s passing.

  Hell no.

  Gary was not going there again.

  And he wasn’t about to play Twenty Questions with these two, either. He didn’t give a damn what their title was.

  “My intention is to take the shot,” he told them evenly. “That’s my job and that’s what I plan to do.”

  “And when that’s done?” Roland asked.

  “So am I,” Gary replied and walked out of the room.

  He was moving so fast and feeling so infuriated that he didn’t see Samantha standing beside the doorway.

  Chapter 14

  She was pacing.

  She hated that.

  The bottom part of her dress bunched in her hand as she moved back and forth across the floor in her office where she’d retreated. The guard who had followed her had gone in first and checked everything before she’d entered. He’d told her he would be waiting right outside the door when she was ready to return to the party. Sam wasn’t sure when that was going to be.

  “Nothing good ever came from eavesdropping.” Her father had told her that once when she’d been following Kris and Roland around the house. It was days before Christmas and the two of them had been planning a surprise gift for Rafe. Sam had hated being left out, especially when Roland had informed her that it was a “guy’s gift.”

  Sam had gone down into the old empty stable stalls and hidden in one of them while she’d waited for her brothers to meet. The scary story they’d ended up telling—instead of working on a gift—had given Sam nightmares so bad that one night she’d run out of her room, down the long hall to where her father’s rooms were and climbed into bed with him. In the morning he’d asked her what was wrong and she’d reluctantly told him. Rafe had shaken his head and rubbed her back. “Some things are better left unknown, Sammy-Girl.”

  Yeah, well, years later, Sam still felt like his words were an understatement.

  Gary was a killer.

  The words sent chills down her spine as they echoed in her head.

  Of course, she’d known this. He’d been a sniper in the United States Army for six years. Now, he was here because her brother had hired a killer to eliminate the threat to their family. She’d deal with the fact that her brother might be a little bit insane himself later. Right now, she was trying to digest that the killer for hire had also become her lover.

  And that lover was going to walk out of her life the minute his job was over.

  She’d opened up to him. Dammit. She’d let down the shield that, once upon a time, she’d had no problem erecting. How many hours had they lain in her bed, cuddled together, talking about the things that pleased them?

  “When you kiss my ears,” he’d said just last night when their naked bodies were twined together after another breath-stealing lovemaking session, “I want to be inside you the moment your tongue touches my ear.”

  Sam had warmed all over to his words because she’d known for years how to pleasure herself and, learning now how it felt to offer someone else that same pleasure, was liberating and a bit intoxicating.

  “I love it when you hold me from behind,” she admitted. “The feel of your strong arms around my waist and the warmth of your breath when you lean in and kiss my neck is indescribable.”

  It was an admission she hadn’t expected to make, but they were being so open, the moment was so intimate and so starkly honest, that she hadn’t been able to keep it in.

  “You mean like this,” he’d said and shifted their bodies until he was behind her, spooning his body against hers. His arms had wrapped tightly around her waist as he’d snuggled close to her neck and kissed the sensitive skin there.

  “Ahhh,” she’d sighed. “Yes.”

  They’d fallen asleep that way, until just before dawn when he’d awakened and left to go to his room. Sam had wanted to ask him to stay. She’d wanted to wake up to the sunrise with him still holding her; had wanted to start her day with a kiss from him, a smile, a touch.

  Sigh.

  She was such a fool.

  He was here to do a job and afterward he was leaving. How could something that sounded so simple feel like a hot blade slipping slowly into her back? She wanted to cry. Then she wanted to yell with fury. Instead she grit her teeth and paced some more.

  “There you are, my sweet.”

  Sam whirled around at the sound of his voice.

  “What? How the hell did you get in here?” she asked Morty, who was moving slowly closer to her.

  “You didn’t think I’d just walk away, did you?” He clucked his tongue and shook his head, coming to a stop just a couple of feet away from where Sam stood.

  Morty was dressed in a tuxedo, just like most of the men at the palace tonight. Only the erratic gleam in his eyes set him apart from the excited guests. They were red-rimmed and hysterical-looking as he continued to leer at her.

  “You thought you could run to Daddy and tell him all sorts of lies and then he’d fire me and I’d be gone,” he continued. “You’re a very beautiful woman, Samantha, but not as smart as everyone believes you are.”

  Sam sighed once more. “All right, Morty. You win. I’m not smart. Okay, run along and tell the world that I’m a stupid, pretty princess,” she quipped and made the mistake of turning her back to him.

  Morty’s arm came around her waist quickly as he pulled her roughly against him. Sam gasped as her head was yanked back by his other hand going around her neck. He held her tightly as he whispered in her ear, “Oh, no, I’ve got another message to send to Grand Serenity’s royal family, my dear. A message they’ll understand loud and clear!”

  “Are you insane?” she asked, her voice husky with the pressure of his hand on her throat. “What are you doing? This isn’t worth what’s going to happen to you, Morty. You have to know that.”

  “What I know is that you’re a foolish, privileged bitch! I tried to give you everything, tried to be what you needed, and you just tossed it all back in my face, like I wasn’t worthy.”

  In her mind Sam screamed that he wasn’t worthy, not even of breathing the same air as normal people. He was a lunatic and right about now she wished she’d seen this part of him sooner.

  “Fine, Morty. We can talk about this. We can sit down and talk about what it is you want for your future. Maybe there’s something you can still do within the government,” she tried telling him.

  “No!” he yelled and held her tighter.

  So tight Sam was having a hard time sucking in enough air to be able to speak. It felt like he was not only choking her but crushing her insides with the strength of his arms around her waist.

  “This isn’t a good idea, Morty. It really isn’t,” she told him.

  �
�Shut up!” he yelled.

  “No, you shut up, you stupid idiot!”

  Malayka’s voice boomed from behind Sam, just before there was a crashing sound and Morty cursed.

  Sam fell to her knees when his grip loosened, and turned just in time to see Malayka holding the tray that Sam kept on the edge of her desk for mail in her hands. As Morty turned to her, Malayka swung the tray at him. The edge struck his forehead and Morty yelled, “You conniving little tramp!”

  It took him only seconds to move in, slapping Malayka so hard she fell back over the end of the desk. Sam jumped up then and reached for the lamp, which she fully intended to slam into Morty’s head. But he turned back to her too fast.

  With a quick lunge, he tackled her until she fell over one of the guest chairs. She fought him with every ounce of strength she had, swinging her arms, kicking, scratching, screaming. But he was stronger. He grabbed her by the hair and began pulling her across the floor. Sam knew instinctively that they were moving toward the balcony. She reached out to grab hold of the leg of the couch just a few feet away. She held on tight, even though she really wanted to do everything she could to keep the stinging in her scalp from making her go cross-eyed with pain.

  “All you had to do was play along!” he was yelling at her. “Just accept my marriage proposal and we would’ve lived happily ever after! I worked too damn hard to secure my place to have you just slap it away like I was some pesky fly on the wall. All you had to do was cooperate!”

  Sam did not intend to let go of the furniture, but Morty finally cursed loudly and bent to scoop her up. It was a tug of war that she wasn’t certain she could win. The muscles in her arms screamed as he pulled at her. When he eventually slapped a hand to her forehead and pulled her head so far back Sam thought he might actually break her neck, she released her hold on the furniture, hoping to live just a little bit longer.

  He picked her up then, carrying her to the open balcony doors. The balmy night air hit her just as he stepped out onto the balcony and Sam screamed again. She screamed so loud and strong that her throat wheezed with the effort. Her head throbbed and every part of her body ached, but still she screamed.

  “Shut up, bitch! Just shut your stupid mouth for once!” he yelled.

  “How about you shut your stupid mouth and let her go.”

  This next voice was deadly calm. It was like a whisper on the nonexistent wind as it soared through the tension-filled room. Morty whirled around, keeping his hold on her, and Sam’s head bobbed as she caught her first glance of Gary.

  He stood about six feet away, still in the office while they were outside, his arms stretched forward, a gun pointing directly at Morty. Or was it pointed at her? She wasn’t sure. She felt nauseous and dizzy. What was happening?

  “You!” Morty spat. “Where the hell did you come from?” He moved closer to the balcony railing as he spoke.

  “My plan was going along just fine until you came along. You weren’t supposed to be here and you definitely weren’t supposed to kiss my woman. She was mine! Damn you! Mine! All of this—” he moved in a way that had the metal railing pressing painfully into Sam’s side “—it was all mine and you messed it up! You and she destroyed my plans! It was going to work! We were going to have the royal wedding, not your old-ass father and his young American slut. That wedding was never supposed to happen. She knows! She knows!” Morty yelled.

  “You’ve got exactly three seconds to let her go,” Gary said in a steely tone Sam was sure she’d never heard before. “In three seconds I’m going to kill your sorry ass. End of plan.”

  “You don’t scare me! I know who you are and you’re nothing! Nobody! You don’t—”

  Morty’s words were abruptly cut off and Sam didn’t stop to see why. She simply took advantage of the fact that his grip on her loosened. She hustled away from him, falling once more onto her knees as she attempted to get back inside. Her chest hurt as she struggled to breathe, to clear her mind of the pain, and to get up off the ground and run.

  In seconds she was being lifted and carried. Someone was whispering in her ear. There were more voices, more movement, but she’d stopped trying to figure it out. She’d had no choice because the blackness engulfed her. Silence and a pain-free existence finally cradled her and Sam let it. For once in her life she went without a fight. She acquiesced and she let go.

  * * *

  “You killed a man in my house!” Rafe roared.

  “I killed the man that was threatening Samantha—your daughter,” Gary countered. “He also assaulted your fiancée, Your Highness. You can have me arrested if you like, but killing him was my pleasure.”

  Rafe grit his teeth. “Of course there’ll be no charges. You saved the princess...my daughter’s life and I’m grateful,” he told Gary. “Don’t mistake my anger for discord. This is going to be hell in the press.”

  “Where the hell were the guards that were supposed to be with her and Malayka?” Roland roared. “Why were they there alone with him in the first place?”

  “That’s what I plan to find out,” Kris stated. “Everyone in my office in fifteen minutes. Including Salvin and Captain Briggins.”

  “I’m not leaving Samantha,” Gary stated.

  “Landry will sit with her after the doctor is finished his exam,” Kris stated in a tone that wasn’t meant to be argued with.

  But Gary didn’t give a damn.

  “I’m not leaving her,” he reiterated. “I’ll come down once I know she’s all right, but right now, I’m staying right here.”

  * * *

  She felt like crap and likely looked like it, but Sam didn’t care. She knew she was in her bedroom; the scent of her lilac bath soaps and the fresh flowers that Lucie brought to her room daily wafted through the air. It was dark. She’d been blinking into the darkness for a few minutes now. And she was not alone.

  A few weeks ago it would have been startling to realize the cool sanctity of her private rooms was being invaded, but not so much now. Another part of her had been invaded, as well. The thought made her want to cry. But Sam was well over that pastime. She’d cried over Miguel and swore it would be the last time any man ever caused her to shed a tear. Her three-year streak would continue.

  “Why are you here?” she asked into the darkness.

  She didn’t know where he was in the room, but knew for sure he was there. The other scent in the room was his. It wasn’t as prominent as it should have been because he’d been here so much over the last week. It was almost as if his scent belonged there, too, like a cosmic joining of sorts. That was ridiculous and out of place. Sam didn’t like things out of place, yet in all this time she hadn’t quite figured out where exactly Gary Montgomery fit into her life.

  “I needed to see that you were all right,” he answered.

  Sam sighed. “Isn’t that how this all began?”

  She recalled every second of the day he’d come to her room and told her he needed to be sure she was okay after the shooting incident. She also recalled the kiss that led him into her bedroom.

  “That’s over and done with now and I’m just fine,” she said when he still hadn’t responded. “Dr. Beaumont says I’ll have some bumps and bruises in the morning, but otherwise I’m okay.”

  He still did not speak.

  “I should thank you,” she told him quietly. “You saved my life.”

  “Your life should have never been in danger,” he replied.

  “It’s my life,” she quipped. “And I’m fine now.”

  “Are you?”

  This was ridiculous. She wanted to see him. It was a struggle as she tried to sit upright, every part of her body hurting just as the doctor had warned. He was by her side before she could blink, proving that he’d been a lot closer than she’d originally thought.

  His arms went around her and the
familiar warmth irritated her. She didn’t want that reaction. Not now. Not anymore.

  Sam pulled away, scooting across the bed until she made it to the other side and was able to lean over and switch on the lamp on the nightstand.

  “Yes,” she said with a huff at the exertion. Reaching behind her she adjusted a pillow and leaned against it. “Thank you for saving my life. You can see for yourself that no permanent damage has been done. Now you can leave.”

  He looked perplexed when she chanced a gaze at him. The white tuxedo jacket was gone and so was the bow tie. The top buttons of his shirt were undone and the sleeves were rolled up to his elbows. He looked disheveled and stressed but still fine as hell.

  “You want me to leave?”

  Even his words sounded off. The tone of his voice was neither as steely nor calm as it usually was. It wasn’t that deathly serious tone that he’d had in the moments just before he’d shot Morty, either.

  “You shot him,” she whispered as she looked at him.

  He seemed different from the man she’d lain with previously in this very bed. Different and yet somehow the same.

  “Without any hesitation you killed him,” she continued. “I’m not angry with you, nor do I mean to sound accusatory or ungrateful in any way. I guess I’m just amazed that I know somebody that can kill so easily.”

  “He was going to hurt you,” he said simply. “I gave him an option. He didn’t take it.”

  She nodded. “I understand,” she told him.

  “Yet you still want me to leave?”

  She swallowed and almost cried out because her throat was so sore from the screaming, she supposed, and the tight grip Morty had placed around her neck.

  “I want you to leave because there’s no reason for you to be here.”

  He walked around to the side of the bed where she was sitting. He did not sit. He reached out a hand and touched the tips of his fingers to her neck. There was a bruise there, she knew because she’d seen it when she’d used the bathroom.

  “He was hurting you,” Gary said softly.