The Princess and the Bodyguard (13 page)

“You fight dirty.”

“My darling Hannah.” He laughed and gently gathered her in his arms. “I’m not a fighter. I’m a lover.”

Hannah stiffened and leaned away in mock outrage.
“Be careful! It took an entire room full of attendants the better part of the afternoon to put me together this way.”

“You mean this isn’t the result of the magic spell of some fairy godmother?” He smiled when she laughed and noted, with pleasure, that she’d relaxed a little. But he’d put the image of her as his queen into her mind, and that was enough for tonight.

“No, I think the fairy godmother has been busy in other quarters. Alex, I believe Rachel and Peter—”

“Yes, I know. I’ve been on the sidelines of that particular story for more than a year, and I must say your son is slow to make his move.”

“I guess you never read
that
story?”

“Which one?” he asked, enjoying her smile.

“The Tortoise and the Hare. Slow and steady wins the race. Or, in this case, the girl.”

“Slow and steady. Yes, that must be it. Come, darling. Our children, yours and mine, are waiting.”

* * * *

According to custom, the family gathered in the salon down the hall from the state dining room. When the moment came, on cue, they would enter together, taking their places at the head table. After dinner, a reception line would form at the entrance to the ballroom. But, for this first appearance of the evening, they entered as a family, and having Hannah with him for that thrilled him beyond belief. He hadn’t sat down with his children and explained to them his intentions. It seemed he didn’t have to. None gave any sign that they didn’t approve of his last-minute changes to the seating arrangements, ensuring Hannah would sit next to him.

And he was frankly amused that Peter would be next to Rachel for the dinner—a first, and wasn’t it about time? In the normal course of events, Peter never sat with the family at official functions, preferring the sidelines where he could direct his security team as needed. Alex would be willing to bet that that young man would be Rachel’s shadow for the entire evening. This pleased him not only because Peter was, to his mind, the perfect match for Rachel, but also because he had absolute faith in Peter’s abilities. If anyone could keep his baby safe, Peter could.

Protocol dictated that the three hundred or so guests rise as the family entered, and that all remain standing until first the king, and then the rest of the family, had taken their seats. In times past, he and Liana would be seated together. Smiling, he considered for one moment asking Hannah to sit when he did, but he knew that would unnerve her. So he took his seat, and nearly laughed out loud when Michael seated Hannah while the rest of the family waited.

No, he didn’t need to tell his family the significance of his interest in Hannah Jones. They’d already figured it out for themselves.

* * * *

Hannah felt as if her eyes would fall right out of her head. She’d had no idea there would be so many people attending this dinner. The head table, slightly U-shaped, had Alex at the center. She sat on his left, and Michael on his right. It seemed curious that she’d been seated next to the king. However, a colonel in the military who had escorted Sophie to dinner, as tradition held that all ladies of the royal household must be escorted, sat next to her.
So maybe
, she thought,
not so curious
.

In groups of six, the remaining guests occupied round tables. So many tables covered the floor, Hannah couldn’t count them.

And then there were the table
settings
. Unwilling to let anyone know how truly ignorant she had been when it came to formal dinners, Hannah had cheated earlier in the day. Using one of the computers in the library, with Catharine at her side, she’d shamelessly surfed the Web. Looking over at her daughter now, they shared a secret smile.

Before her lay the most complicated array of eating utensils, dishes, and glasses she’d ever set eyes on. Thanks to her research, she recognized all the pieces before her. There would be wine with each course. She made a private promise to limit herself to tiny sips of the alcohol that would be offered, or she’d end up passing out face-first into her dinner.

“Everything all right, Hannah?” Alex asked her in a low voice, his amusement obviously barely controlled.

The absurdity of everything hit her, and she tried hard not to laugh. “Boy, are you in for a change of pace tomorrow night.”

“Good. Because, quite frankly, I usually find these events to be tedious and a real trial. Except for this one, because you’re here with me.”

* * * *

“Unless it’s someone I personally hand you over to, you can forget about dancing with anyone else tonight. And that goes especially for that old letch. If you really want to dance, you’re going to have to put up with me as your partner.”

Rachel hid a smile.
“I think Papa will take a very dim view of that. He likes for us to mingle with the guests at these events.”

Peter simply pulled her closer and he guided her around the dance floor. The music, a traditional waltz, filled the large room. Before this evening, she’d never danced with him, and had no idea how wonderfully he could move to the music.

“You cannot believe that Count
Dupres
is the source of those letters! The man is old enough to be my father. He only wanted to dance with me.” Rachel couldn’t suppress the laughter in her voice, and thought the scowl on Peter’s face sweet. Oh, he might claim to be protecting her against the very real threat she faced. But to her, he was acting jealous.

“Yeah, he wanted to dance with you and cop a feel. I’ve heard about that guy.”

“Well, yes, he does try to take a few liberties. But I am an expert at fending off unwanted attention.”

“Really? Prove it. Fend off this.”

He swooped down, capturing her mouth with his. Rachel sank into his kiss, wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing herself tightly against him. He tasted of the brandy he’d sipped after dinner and of pure heat, and she didn’t think she’d ever get enough of the taste of him. By the time he pulled away, she’d felt the ridge of his engorged penis and knew he was as aroused as she.

“You didn’t fend me off.”

“That was not unwanted attention.”

She watched him scan the room and knew he’d met her father’s stare when he stiffened and cursed softly.

Rachel looked over her shoulder.

“He does not look as if he is angry, so relax,
mon cher
.”

“You’re trouble.”

Such a tone of exasperation laced his words, Rachel couldn’t help but tease him. “Oh,
oui, d’accord
. But I believe you are man enough to handle me.”

Peter slid his hand down her back to rest tantalizingly above the swell of her bottom. “Careful, Red. I just might handle you by turning you over my knee and paddling your ass.”

She knew he’d said it with that wide grin to annoy her, hoping to spark her temper. Instead, his words enflamed her in a different way. She licked her lips. Peter’s eyes turned smoky hot as he followed the slow sweep of her tongue. She found she could say only one word.

“Deal.”

* * * *

He began to doubt his senses. For the last half hour, he’d felt an itching between his shoulder blades, a feeling that danger hovered near. He easily made eye contact with each member of his staff as he circled the dance floor with Rachel in his arms. Everything appeared to be safe and secure. He knew every member of his team to be alert, vigilant, each one of them committed to keeping the royal family safe. And yet he felt on edge.

“You’re going to have to let me go for a few moments.”

“Not really.”

“Peter, I need a few moments.
Alone
.”

He shot her a grin, because he knew she needed the bathroom. The family salon, where they’d gathered before entering for dinner, served as an all-purpose withdrawing room that the family used during formal functions to answer nature’s call, or to simply have a moment to sit and relax without being under constant scrutiny. Access to the room was restricted in that the corridor between it and the ballroom was closed to guests and was guarded.

He maneuvered them over toward the entrance to the corridor, and then reluctantly let her go. “Don’t be too long.”

She only gave him a saucy smile, and he found himself shaking his head. He had told her the truth. She was trouble.

But he didn’t mind a little trouble.

Standing back, his eyes roamed the ballroom. How decked out people got for these things never ceased to amaze him. It wasn’t only the women who liked to come all polished and shiny, sporting enough jewelry to buy a small Third World Country. The men held their own in the glitter department. The ambassadors always proved a treat to watch, because each one believed himself to be the most important guest in attendance.

Tonight also saw the inevitable influx of movie stars. Not as many now in late August as at the Arts Cotillion in May, but then, Princess Helene always held that charity event in support of young artists near the end of the Cannes Film Festival, when the Riviera swam in Hollywood types. Still, looking at the sea of dancers passing by, he could pick out a few European stars, two American ones, and a director. A couple of Formula One drivers had been invited, one being the son of a longtime friend of Alex.

Then came what Peter referred to as the wannabes. These people had some claim to minor nobility through history and would
not
let go of it. Count
Dupres
was one of those, but the royal family enjoyed his outrageous behavior, so they always invited him. Viscount Delgado and his wife had come, as usual. The viscount always wore what appeared to be a military uniform, with a batch of medals on his chest. Peter knew for a fact the uniform had been purchased from a costume company, and the closest the viscount had ever come to a real battle was the time his wife had caught him groping one of the maids.

He turned his head slightly to the left. Two elderly ladies caught his attention. Their tiny bodies bounced in time to the lively polka being played, eyes twinkling merrily. They had to be sisters. Their white hair appeared styled identically, each in a bun on top of their heads. Their gowns tented below their waists in a very old-fashioned style, and differed only in color—one a soft gold, the other silver.

He’d never seen them before, but just looking at them made him feel good. Even as he realized that was a weird thought, the elderly lady in the gold gown looked right at him. Her smile bloomed so sweetly, as if she knew the contents of all the packages under the Christmas tree. He wondered who the pair of cherubs could possibly be.

Then the woman seemed to stare off over his shoulder, her eyes losing focus for just a second. When she looked at him again, her smile disappeared. She looked concerned, even alarmed.

Peter’s first thought was instinctive.
Rachel.

His heart pounded heavily and dread flooded his soul. Spinning on his heels, he sprinted for the salon.

He knew she was safe, but that didn’t stop his heart from racing.

Nothing unnerved Alex more than a threat, of any kind, to his children. He held tightly onto Hannah’s hand and walked sedately across the ballroom. The rest of the family would remain, keeping up the appearance of having a good time. Alex would return to his duty here, as well.

Right after he hugged his baby.

Extra guards had been posted outside the family salon, guards who snapped to attention the moment they caught sight of Alex. He didn’t pause to greet them, as he normally would, didn’t even acknowledge their presence.

Inside, Doctor Calvert examined a scowling and complaining Rachel.

“I am fine, Doctor. I told you, I only hit my head on the very edge of the chair when I fell.”

“You were unconscious when I found you.”

“Only a little.”

The cold fury in Peter’s tone and Rachel’s pouting response settled Alex’s nerves as nothing else could have.

“Silence,
petite
. Allow the doctor to do his job.” Alex held onto his control, didn’t run over to her as he wanted to, kept his tone soft, but couldn’t stop himself from stroking a hand down his daughter’s hair. He turned his attention to Peter. “What happened?”

“That
bastard
was here. Right here in this room planting another letter when Rachel came in and surprised him. He shoved her and she fell.”

“And then he ran off. I’m sorry, Papa, I didn’t get a look at him. If I hadn’t lost my balance when he pushed me, I’d have kicked him hard where it would hurt.”

“My God, Rachel, you have just frightened ten years off my life,” Alex said. Hannah squeezed his hand in silent comfort, then sat on the settee beside Rachel.

The ring of a cell phone made Peter start, proving to Alex just how disturbed his usually unflappable security chief had been by the attack on Rachel. While Hannah spoke softly, soothingly to Rachel, Alex waited to find out what was being done to find the person responsible. For the first time, he allowed himself to accept the reality of the situation. Someone intended harm to his youngest child.

Peter, his expression tightly controlled, listened to the caller for a few moments, then issued a few terse orders before snapping his cell phone shut. He met Alex’s gaze with tortured eyes. “I’m sorry, sir. I accept full responsibility—”

Alex waved his hand. “Do you not think I know you would do anything to protect her? I do not blame you, and it annoys me when you blame yourself. Now, tell me, what do you know?”

“The perimeter guards report no one got by them—coming or going. I’m having the palace searched on the theory that whoever attacked Rachel knows their way around the place, which is pretty well confirmed by this latest letter, and that whoever it is, is still here. I’m also going to review the security tapes. We have an image of every guest, and every staff member who came onto the premises today. In the meantime, I think we should move Rachel to the safe house.”