On top of that, the princess refused to let those displaced go to a shelter. She’d made arrangements with three hotels—even in peak tourist season—to find accommodations for everyone. So that they had the dignity of private rooms and showers while they processed losing their homes.
The explosion had barely happened two hours ago. How had the woman done so much already?
When Theo finally tracked her down, she wasn’t in the medical tent, but rather behind it. In the orange-tinged darkness lay rows of nine bodies on the ground. Princess Genevieve knelt next to a woman, burned and bloody from head to toe. The princess held her hand, kissed her forehead, and then with great reverence, brushed her eyelids shut.
Her shoulders bowed forward. And shook.
No. He couldn’t let her fall apart where somebody might see. Voice already rough from smoke, Theo said, “Your Highness.”
The princess startled, her hand planting on the ground to catch herself. Spine straight, she stood. The first thing he noticed was that below the hem of her wide-legged black linen pants were her usual sky-high stilettos.
Was the woman mad?
“You dressed for the occasion?”
She looked down at her shoes and then at the bodies on the ground and gave a sharp shake of her head.
Genevieve took his hand and walked them around the corner of the tent. There was less privacy, with firefighters rushing by and a cluster of police grimly gesticulating and arguing. But he was glad she’d relocated them. The poor victims deserved respect and privacy far more than they did.
“Christian put on his uniform, as a firefighter. I put on my uniform,” Genny tapped her sternum, “as a princess. To…maintain the image that we will make sure everything is safe and good. To give hope. If I can traipse around this disaster in heels, it can’t be the end of the world, even if those affected might feel it.” She mustered a lopsided shadow of a smile. “At least, that’s the idea.”
“It’s fucking inspiring.” Theo surged forward to take her in his arms. He drove one hand up into her hair and positioned the other at the small of her back to cinch her close. Relief mixed with passion in their deep kisses.
Kisses that he didn’t care who saw.
Kisses that he needed like he needed his next breath.
As he did so, a sharp, indrawn breath made him freeze. “What’s wrong, Genny?”
“You hit the scrape on my arm. It’s not a big deal.” Indeed, her tight grip around his waist didn’t let up a bit.
Evidently, his gut-knotting fear for her safety had him off his game. That and the double-take he’d done at her shoes in the shadows. Because as he removed his hands and pushed her gently back, Theo took in the rest of Genevieve’s appearance.
The slash in the sleeve of her dark gray blouse. The wide gauze pad with a pinkish-red hue seeping in a jagged line across it high on her left arm. And on the right side of her temple, a purpling bruise that disappeared under another—thankfully smaller—dressing.
Theo lifted his hands in the air and then froze, unsure of where it was safe to touch her. “You’re hurt!”
“Barely. Not like those people who were hit by exploding shrapnel.”
“Their pain doesn’t make yours any less.” Oh so carefully, Theo lifted her right hand to press a kiss on her knuckles. “Genevieve, what happened? Do you need to sit down?”
“I’ll sit when the fire’s out. When everyone has a place to go. When there aren’t any bodies waiting for another set of ambulances to go to the hospital or the morgue.”
Her voice faltered on the last word. Her gaze skittered sideways and down, past the bodies.
“Darling.” With care and tenderness, Theo cupped the uninjured side of her jaw, nudged it center so that her focus was on him. “I know you’ll stand for them. For all of them. But let me stand for you. Tell me how you got hurt.”
Swiftly, as if reciting a rote poem, Genevieve said, “A fire hose got loose. It swept my legs out from under me. The edge of the nozzle cut my arm. When I fell down, I knocked my head on a bench. Nothing life-threatening.”
True. But also undoubtedly more serious than she cared to admit. “You could have a concussion.”
“I didn’t lose consciousness.”
A tidy evasion, which gave away just as much as if she’d answered him truthfully. “What did the paramedic who treated you say?”
“I wasn’t listening?” she said with a playful upswing in her voice. Then Genny interlaced her fingers with his. “I appreciate your concern more than you know. Would you just save it? For after?”
He understood her need to keep going. To compartmentalize. And if that’s what the princess needed right now, by God, he’d give it to her.
With an elaborate flourish of his arm and a bow from his waist, Theo intoned, “You know I never turn down a royal command.”
A frazzled-looking man in gloves and with a paper gown flapping pushed through the side of the tent. “Your Highness, we need you. The child of one of the victims. She’s just a toddler and won’t go to sleep.”
Theo hooked a thumb at the scrum of trucks and cars and people. “I can’t imagine that she would in this hullabaloo.”
“Those of us with training need to tend to the injured. Lillette is fine—just needs to be held until Social Services arrive.”
“She’s not fine if she’s lost one of her parents,” Genevieve said with more bite than usual. “I’ll take care of her.”
That led to the mental picture Theo snapped that he knew he’d never, ever forget.
Princess Genevieve Eleanor Marie, second in line to the throne of Moncriano, with her legs curled beneath her on a patch of dirt fast turning to mud from the fire hose seepage. Her messy blond hair was back-lit with a halo of red and orange light. In her lap, she cradled a child clad only in a diaper and soot.
She rocked Lilette slowly back and forth while singing a soft lullaby. Firefighters tromped by in their heavy boots and turnout gear. Loose gravel and debris began to float as the puddle of water along the curb turned into a stream. Shouts and screams continued over the blasting of the hoses. Spotlights from helicopters blinded them as they swung in seemingly random patterns.
But Genevieve gave all her attention to a child whose hand curled over her heart.
She didn’t keep a wary eye out for the safety of her brother.
Didn’t attempt to smooth her hair for the banks of cameras and overhead drones.
Didn’t ask for a bottle of water for her undoubtedly parched throat. Or for assistance when the heavy weight of the little girl drooped onto her injured arm.
Her entire being was selflessly focused on caring for Lillette. It was the personification of the ideal of royalty looking after their kingdom.
It was that moment Theo realized he was falling in love with the princess.
Chapter Thirteen
There had been a brief period of time as a boy-crazed teenager that Genevieve had leaned in to being a princess. When every fantasy involved a ballgown, a tiara, a bra (she hadn’t needed one yet but fervently wanted one), and a handsome prince sweeping her off her feet.
Variations included a setting of wildflowers, orchards, or a beach strewn with the bioluminescent fish she’d done a report on (without any pesky logic interfering and telling her the fish would die if on the beach for her romantic moment).
The fantasy faded—mostly—once she discovered that wearing a tiara inevitably caused a headache. Bras weren’t so special. And most importantly? Princes weren’t so special, either. They were just normal men, many with an unfortunate sense of entitlement.
Tonight, though, was special. She was living the fantasy.
Oh, sure, there were a few discrepancies.
Instead of a ballgown, she wore wet, filthy, sooty clothes that she’d order her maid to toss rather than clean.
Gen
ny didn’t feel pretty. She felt every ache, pain, and scrape on her body. Her makeup had long since melted off. Couldn’t begin to guess what a disaster her hair was, aka in no shape to show off her favorite tanzanite and diamond tiara.
But she did feel like a princess. Down to her core. Because Theo was carrying her in his arms through the length of Alcarsa Palace. When he wasn’t dropping soft kisses on her nose or forehead or cheek, he was smiling down at her with this look of…well, she couldn’t put it into words.
Which should worry her. Everything in Genevieve’s world came with a label and a rule. Lord Theo had been labeled “the enemy,” period. The corresponding rule? Stay far away. Thwart at any cost.
None of that applied. Not now that she’d gotten to know him so well.
Not now that she’d fallen for him so hard…
Theo looked at her with this combination of dreamy intensity and tenderness. It made her feel treasured. Special. Not the special where thousands of people bowed when she rode by in a carriage because of her inherited title.
Special for who she was. Genny. Not the princess. The woman.
Ironically, that made her feel like a princess. It made her feel beautiful. Wonderful.
Was she looking at him the way he looked at her? Years of habit snapped Genevieve out of her bubble of contentment to swivel to spot the footmen. Were they staring? Judging? Would they gossip in the staff quarters about the princess being so intimately carried through the halls?
“Stay still,” Theo ordered.
Genny crossed her ankles in an attempt to be the tiniest bit more proper. “You should put me down. I can walk.”
“Yes, well, I can carry you.” He didn’t slow his purposeful stride one bit. “Now that we’ve established our capabilities, know that I’m not putting you down until we hit your suite. You pushed yourself tonight, Princess.”
“No more so than anyone else,” Genny protested.
“That’s debatable. You don’t need an argument, though. Just the facts. Your feet have to be throbbing. Your calves are probably sore where the firehose hit. Not to mention whichever part of you bore the brunt of your fall—besides your head hitting the bench. So you can be carried by me or by whichever footman you trust not to cop a feel.”
She trusted the footmen to behave with respect. But she only trusted, only wanted Theo to carry her. For once, it was nice to give in and be told what to do.
Because Genny, yes, trusted Theo to make the decisions that were right for her.
Because she trusted that his only motive was to make her happy. And Genny couldn’t say the same of anyone outside her immediate family. This was a rare gift Theo was giving her.
Not that she’d just roll over without a teensy bit of a fight. It was, after all, what they did.
Tucking her head under his chin, she murmured, “You’re quite bossy.”
His booming laughter bounced off the gilded sconces that lined the walls covered with ivory and gold fabric. “You’re just now noticing that?”
“You may take me to my rooms, Lord Theo. And I thank you for your service.” Her eyes shut, and Genny melted against him, knowing that Clara would finish showing him the way.
That’s when she realized she had one more duty. Her eyes flew open. “Clara!”
“Yes, Your Highness?” The bodyguard barely slowed and indicated with her hand where Theo needed to switch hallways.
“Before you leave, please tell your captain that I’d like all the members of the Royal Protection Service who helped tonight to be rotated off for a rest day tomorrow. I mean, later today.”
“We can’t do that. Aside from those guarding your family, everyone else on- and off-duty came out to fight the fire.”
“All the officers?” Theo sounded incredulous.
“Yes. It is our job to protect, Lord Theo. In whatever shape that takes.” A lightning-fast smile flicked across Clara’s mouth. “But I’ll pass along your request, Princess, and it will be appreciated.”
“As was your tirelessness. Thank you, as always, Clara.”
Genny let her head sag back against the ridged wall of Theo’s shoulder. She whispered, “I’m not letting their efforts go unrewarded. How much of a budget fight are we going to get into when I tell you I want to give them all an extra day’s pay?”
“None at all.” His warm breath teased up the fine hairs on the back of her neck. “It’s a fitting gesture. Nobody would dare quibble over such an expense.”
“That was…too easy.”
This time, she felt the laughter rumble up through his chest. It jostled her breast in an unexpected ripple. “Now you want to argue about getting your way?”
“Perhaps.” Her jaw cracked with a giant yawn. “It’ll keep me awake. I still have to power through showering and changing.”
Clara opened the door to her suite then closed it behind them. Theo didn’t stop walking.
Genny unclasped her hands from around his neck. “You may put me down.”
“No. I’m not leaving you. I’m taking care of you, Princess. You need it tonight. You deserve it every night, but you need it tonight.”
Oh, his declaration was like rose petals being slowly rubbed over her heart. How did Theo know that she so desperately craved comfort after all she’d witnessed?
“Thank you,” she said softly.
Slowing in the darkness broken only by a sliver of moonlight peeking through a crack in the curtains, Theo turned in a slow half circle, getting his bearings. He advanced toward a door. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”
“That’s my closet.”
He changed course, nudging open the right door with his foot. “Do you need pain meds? Did the paramedics give you any? Can you have anything with your probable concussion?”
Genevieve winced as the lights flooded on, reflecting off the mirrors on every wall. “It’s only a possible concussion. Make that an unlikely possibility.” Which wasn’t precisely what the medic had said. But she hadn’t lost consciousness and wasn’t seeing double, so if she had one, it was minor.
It felt ridiculous to whine about a headache given the scope of the tragedy.
“Not wanting one isn’t the same as not having one.” Theo set her down on the white divan in the center of the room. “I assume you plan on going back out later today to visit the wounded in the hospital. To visit the families of the victims. So let’s get you back on your game.”
He opened the cabinet over the sink, riffling through bottles before returning with a cup of water and pills in his hand.
Because Theo was right—yet again—Genevieve wordlessly popped back the pills and took the water. With a sigh of relief, she pushed off her pumps and wiggled her toes.
As she drained the cup, she watched him turn on the shower, the rain shower head and the six jets on the walls, and then hook two fingers in the back of his shirt and pull it over his head.
Genny’s mouth went dry. Where to look first? The defined pecs or the unbelievably broad shoulders above? The rippled indentations of his abs or the dark line of hair that drew her gaze down to where it disappeared into his pants?
She’d had her hands on him before. But putting visuals to what she’d felt was twice as powerful.
“What…what are you doing?”
“I’m going to help you shower. You need to keep the wound on your arm dry.” Theo draped his shirt over the ladderback of her makeup chair and toed off his shoes. His pants hit the floor with a muffled thud, probably from a pocket full of wallet and phone. “This isn’t a move. Or a seduction. Just let me help you, Genevieve.”
Eyes still glued to the impossibly taut skin stretched across his ribs, she murmured, “I’m not going to stop you.” The tattoo on his ribs was the crest of Moncriano. As if, even while far away, he’d wanted to keep his country close. Wasn’t that interesting?
The
o sank into a crouch to undo the buttons of her blouse. He used both hands to carefully ease it over her cut. A faint purpling bruise already extended beyond the bandage. “Oh, baby, does it hurt?”
“Not now,” she answered truthfully. “I have a feeling my answer will change in a few hours.”
He lifted her to her feet. With careful but efficient movements, Theo had her stripped in seconds.
Seconds that stretched into hours for Genny. He didn’t take any liberties. Didn’t linger pushing her pants over her butt. Kept his fingers moving her bra straps down her arms without going near her actual breasts.
But his mere touch inflamed her. So what if her biceps wasn’t technically an erogenous zone written about in song and story? When Theo touched her there, it became one. Her body was a canvas he was unknowingly painting into arousal.
Just the awareness that he was looking at her—naked—for the first time set every nerve ending on alert.
Pain…the bone deep weariness that hollowed her out…well, she didn’t notice those things any more.
Genny’s world, her focus, her senses—it was all consumed by Theo.
After testing the water, he nudged her inside the enormous glassed-in stall. “Turn so your arm is away from the jets. And who needs this many jets?”
So typical of him. But they’d have to pry her luxury shower out of her cold, dead hands. This was one pricey princess perk that was non-negotiable.
“It isn’t about need, Theo. It’s about want.”
Sadly, he didn’t rise to her flirtatious bait. Well, a part of him did. The bulge in his black boxer briefs tripled in size in the blink of an eye.
“I’ll try to be fast but careful. If anything hurts, just let me know.”
“Certainly. I’ll, ah, moan.” There. Excuse concocted. Her pride would stay intact if she reacted to his touch again in a less-than-pained way.
Theo sniffed her soap after working up a lather in his hands, outstretched in front of her body. Genny had turned just enough to catch something flicker across his eyes. “It smells like you.”
Ruling the Princess Page 16
