The Christmas Princess (10 page)

“Now,” said the king in accented but excellent English, “we shall talk.”

April glanced at Hunter.

He looked straight ahead, apparently at the curtains. His expression was impassive, but she could almost hear the hum of tension coming from him.

“It is a pleasure to see you again, Ms. Johnson.”

“Your Majesty.”

King Jozef’s gaze came to him next. “Hunter.”

He dropped his head in a curt nod, not a gesture anyone could mistake for a bow. “Your Majesty. This is April Gareaux.”

The King of Bariavak continued to regard him, his still-bright eyes glinting out through narrowed lids under bushing eyebrows.

Odd. Hunter would have expected the king to have immediately zeroed in on April.

Possibly to take an extreme position by embracing her. Or the opposite extreme by repudiating her. More likely to steer the intermediate course by peppering both her and him with questions about her background.

Finally, the older man turned his head slowly toward April.

“How do you do, my dear. Won’t you sit down?”

April smiled. “Thank you. I would like that very much, since my knees are shaking.”

Hunter heard a faint sound behind them, like Madame Sabdoka had sucked in a breath, but the king not only smiled, he got up and came around the desk, taking April’s left arm and leading her to a chair in the conversation group by the fireplace under the painting of the coronation of King Poterzo in 1523.

In a seemingly courtly gesture, King Jozef seated April. Hunter noted it gave the king an excellent view of the relative lengths of the last two fingers on her left hand.

“No, you stay, Hunter,” the king ordered as he’d taken a step toward the door. He turned to Sharon, gesturing to the chair next to April. “I hope you will stay as well, Ms. Johnson. And you there, Hunter.”

That put April and Sharon on one side of the coffee table, the king on the sofa opposite, and Hunter in a chair at the far end of the table. Part of the group, yet sidelined.

What was the old man up to? Calling him Hunter as if they knew each other. As if—

“What do you ask of me, my dear —? No, I cannot keep calling you my dear. Shall I call you Josephine-Augusta?”

“No!” April’s gaze came to Hunter. He gave no response. She needed to find her own way. He would not be here to smooth moments like this. She looked back to the king. “I’ve been called April as long as I can remember.”

“Very well.” Neither the king’s tone nor expression changed. “What would you ask of me, April?”

“I would like to get to know you if that’s all right.”

He studied her a moment before the grooves around his mouth eased. “Is that all?”

“I’d like to hear about … your family, if you don’t mind talking about them.”

“So all you that care to ask is to hear an old man talk about himself and his past?”

“They could be my family, too.”

Hunter should have felt like applauding. She didn’t overplay the moment. She neither staked a claim nor demurred. The simplicity made it powerful.

Her sincerity also made it dangerous. If she let her feelings get too deeply entangled… Yes, even though he’d be at a distance, he’d watch that carefully. Only because it could affect the operation.

“What of the celebrations and galas of the diplomatic holiday season here in Washington?’

She frowned. “I hope to celebrate Christmas with you. But as for the diplomatic season, you should rest with the operation coming up.”

“You know about that, do you?” The king’s sharper tone matched a chilled expression he aimed at Hunter. Hunter looked straight ahead.

April said, “Anyone who reads the Post’s Style section knows it.”

His Royal Majesty, King Jozef of Bariavak burst out laughing.

“Ah, sometimes with all our games of intrigue and negotiation and diplomacy, we forget the direct and open approach. Is that not true, Hunter?”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“Yes. It is a lesson I will be happy to have you teach me, if you can, April. And I shall be honored to have you as my guest for this holiday season. I would give a great deal–.” The rumble of his voice hinted at depths beneath those bland words. “—to be able to show my granddaughter a true Bariavak Christmas. However, as you note, my approaching surgery makes remaining in the United States advisable. So we must settle for the pleasures this city provides us.”

“There are many Christmas things we can do. We’ll get a tree, and decorate it. I can bake cookies and—”

Madame Sabdoka didn’t make a sound or move as far as Hunter could tell. Yet waves of disapproval rolled off her so strongly that he thought for a moment they might knock over April.

She looked around at the older woman, then toward him, then to King Jozef.

“Aren’t trees and cookies part of Bariavak’s traditions?”

“They are. However, the staff here deals with such matters,” the king said.

“Oh.”

“At this time, the staff is quite depleted. As you saw, I have sent the last two of my advisors and my assistant secretary home to Bariavak, joining most of the embassy staff. The embassy retains here only a skeleton staff.”

“Then it makes even more sense for me to do those things.”

From behind him, Hunter felt the power of Madame’s reaction — like a teakettle about to blow. But he kept his eyes on April and the king, looking across the coffee table at each other. Sizing each other up, he thought suddenly. Neither backing down. Anyone who didn’t know better might think they were related.

The king gave a small, noncommittal smile. “Perhaps an arrangement can be made. In the meantime, I would like to have you come to stay here with me.”

April’s expression snapped to shock. “Stay here?”

“Yes. I am told I can be very demanding. I will want to spend what time I have free with you so that we may become well-acquainted. I do understand you have commitments, activities of your, shall we say, previous role.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty, but I have arranged my few obligations so I could be free in hopes of getting to know you. But—”

From the corner of his eye he caught a flicker of surprise from Sharon, which meant she’d been caught off-guard by that final word, too.

“—I’m afraid it’s not possible for me to stay here with you.”

“Not possible?”

“No, Your Majesty. I have a dog.”

“A dog?”

“The dog can stay with—”

She cut off Hunter. “No. Rufus can’t stay anywhere except with me.”

“The dog shall come, too,” said the king.

From by the door, Madame made a sound like lips clamped hard over a sucked-in breath.

“Tomorrow.” Although the king continued to look at April, that added word clearly had been directed at Madame.

Now he turned to Sharon. “I also request the services of Hunter Pierce until I depart Washington. You are his supervisor, are you not?”

Hunter stiffened.

“I am. He can be assigned to your security detail—”

Hunter interrupted. “Your security staff is more than capable, Your Majesty.”

“If they were not, I would not have them. However, if an emergency should arise and they spoke Bariavakian under stress, April would not understand. I require that you be on hand, since you know English even better than your native Bariavakian.”

He felt the startled look April shot him. He kept his attention on the old fox, who wasn’t done yet.

Returning his attention to Sharon, King Jozef said smoothly, “As for an assignment to my security detail, that would not be satisfactory. I should prefer to have broader access to his abilities. His language skills would serve me as well. My English is not as certain as I should like.” Then he wanted to be Shakespeare. Because he rarely hesitated, much less misspoke. “In addition, he has lived in this city for many years and spent a great deal of time among these diplomats who are sending me invitations. He can help steer us away from the most boring. So, I request Mr. Pierce be available at all times, and thus will need to reside here, in the embassy.”

Hunter twitched. If King Jozef suspected April wasn’t the real thing, wouldn’t he want Hunter out of the picture so he could quiz her? And if he thought April
was
the real thing, he’d be even more likely to want her to himself. Yet Jozef was clearly intent on keeping Hunter on call. Why?

“I can, of course, make this a formal request at the highest levels …” Although he never looked away from Sharon, it was as if a challenge had landed at Hunter’s feet. A challenge he could not afford to pick up.

Neither could Sharon. “That will not be necessary, Your Majesty. This is an extraordinary circumstance, and we want to assist in any way we can. I am happy to assign Mr. Pierce to your household for your time in Washington.”

From the window, King Jozef of Bariavak watched the trio get into the limo.

The young woman had been slightly flustered at his request that she stay here.

His cynicism had soared at that. It was more than she’d agreed to in whatever bargain they’d struck.

But then it had appeared her reluctance was because of a dog.

So then he didn’t know what to think. That was a rare occurrence of late. He rather liked that he didn’t know.

Madame Sabdoka stood behind him, having returned from showing them out.

“Speak,” he said. She would accept the invitation only as an order.

“What do you hope to gain from having her —
them
— here?”

“Enlightenment, Madame.” Thinking about the glints he’d seen between April and Hunter, he added, with another bit of surprise, “And, perhaps, enjoyment.” Those glints could well be from sparks suppressed with determination. He knew about such sparks and such suppression.

Madame’s mouth pursed even tighter.

He had rarely had a private word with her in more than fifty years, yet he knew this pursing was her method of keeping words inside.

It reminded him somehow of the rigid control of young Hunter Pierce.

He suddenly wished Madame Sabdoka would let her words out. Perhaps he wanted even for Hunter Pierce’s words to come out.

Too much had been held inside for too long.

“I believe it’s going to be a most memorable Christmas, Madame Sabdoka. Most memorable.”

“Could it have gone any better than that?”

Hunter answered his boss’s patently hypothetical question. “Yes.”

“What more do you want?” Sharon demanded.

It wasn’t more he wanted. It was less.

Less of April’s heart in her eyes.

And
none
of his staying in the embassy at Jozef’s beck and call.

What was he up to?

King Jozef had barely given Hunter Pierce a glance when he’d been assigned to his detail during a brief state visit to Washington.

Fresh out of training, Hunter had been given the assignment because of his knowledge of the language. He’d never needed to use it, because the king, after acknowledging the introduction with a regal nod, had not interacted with the American security man.

That had been fine with Hunter. He’d half expected a repeat today. Instead, the king had made it clear he knew who Hunter was and then made that bizarre demand for his presence.

“From an operational standpoint,” he said to Sharon, “it’s better if she doesn’t become emotionally entwined with this role or with him. If she lets her feelings rule, it could complicate the end of the operation. That’s the important thing. The only thing. She needs to moderate her feelings.”

“If I weren’t so astonished at you talking about feelings, I’d blast you for being a cold-hearted jerk. She–.”

“Hey.” April waved a hand. “You do know I’m here, don’t you?”

Sharon grinned. “Sorry.”

“I do appreciate how much you have done for me, both of you and you, Derek,” she pitched her voice to reach the front seat. “Thank you all.”

“I would be even more terrified than I am now—” Her smile went lopsided. “—if you hadn’t given me such a good grounding. Now I have to do it.”

Her gaze came to him.

“I have to do it,” she repeated. “That means it has to be my way, not your way any longer, Hunter. Even if I could close down or separate my emotions the way you think I should, I wouldn’t. I won’t cheat King Jozef that way. I won’t cheat myself that way. I’m going to do this — and I’m going to do it with feeling.” She straightened in the seat, her head held high. Then she launched one last salvo at him. “And if you don’t like it — tough.”

“Hold up, Hunter,” Sharon said, drawing him back out of the suite where they’d just returned April, to Rufus’ delight.

She closed the door and walked a dozen steps down the hall. He followed.

“Look, I know it’s gotten more complicated, with King Jozef wanting you to stay at the embassy. I want you to know I didn’t plan that.”

He said nothing.

“And it’s not going to be easy for you with April, either,” she said.

“There’s no need for you to be concerned. We can get along.”

“No kidding you can get along.” Her smile faded as she studied his face. “Oh, God, Pierce tell me you’re not trying to pretend you don’t feel anything for that woman.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

She swore under her breath. “Then I’ll have to take a picture of your face when you touch her.”

“I don’t tou—”

“Oh for heaven’s sake, Pierce, don’t waste my time. Let me tell you, what that picture of your face would say is that you like touching April Gareaux. You like it a lot.”

Hunter stared at the ceiling.

It took a moment to realize why it seemed unfamiliar. It was the ceiling over the bed in his apartment, but for the past ten days he’d spent most of his ceiling-staring time at the hotel. A much higher quality of ceiling to stare at.

Sharon had ordered him to go home tonight, pack his bags, and make any other arrangements necessary to stay at the Bariavak embassy until after the first of the year.

Not much more than a mile from his apartment. A world away.

Damn Sharon.

Not for agreeing to Jozef’s request.
Request
.
Right
. The man demanded, he didn’t request.