The Royal Mess (8 page)

Authors: MaryJanice Davidson

BOOK: The Royal Mess

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Chapter 22

“H
i!” a cheerful redhead about ten years older than Nicole said. “I'm Holly Bragon, rhymes with dragon. I'm the king's official biographer.”

“Hi.” Nicole shook hands with the woman.

“I don't suppose you're in the mood to talk about your mother.”

“Not hardly.”

“Or how all this feels right now?”

“Nuh-uh.”

“Or what it's like to go from a commoner to first in line for the throne, set to inherit one of the world's largest fortunes?”

“Nope.”

“I figured.” The redhead looked around the suite of rooms. “Is this gonna be yours, then?”

“Guess so.”

“A taciturn girl, I like that. The others can be a bit of a handful.”

“Not me. I'm a pussycat.”

“Yeah, and I'm an amoeba.”

Holly pushed past Nicoleâa relief from bowing and “Your Highness” this and “Your Highness” that. Nicole pegged her accent as deep South United States, Texas or Georgia or someplace like that.

Holly peered out the five-foot-high windows. “Hmmm. It looks like we're three stories up, but the south pavilion roof is right down there, ain't it? And from there it's not much of a drop for a tall girl like you.”

Nicole raised her eyebrows. Holly “rhymes with dragon” was a quick one. “Really? I hadn't noticed.”

“My big ole Texan butt you hadn't.” She slapped herself on the flank. “Ain't it great?”

“Uh . . . it's very nice.”

“But if I had to make that drop, I'd mess up my fabulous underwear. Heights give me the creeps. But not you, I bet.”

“I once followed a bear over a cliff.”

“I'm making a memo to me to follow up with you on that story. But why?”

“Well, I shot him but didn't kill him, so I was morally obligated toâ”

“No, no. Why this suite, why the setup so you can slip off the grounds? You're not a prisoner, like Rapunzel in her tower.”

“I like to come and go as I like. Do you have any idea how long it takes just to arrange to go into town for, I dunno, a cup of coffee?”

“I got an idea.”

“First you gotta tell Edmund. Then he tells your security detail. Then they waste tons of time getting organized. Then, an hour or two later, finally, you can leave. Except you're not alone, of course. And with all the bodyguards and royal cars and all, everybody stares. And you can't pay for anything; the store owner comes out and practically genuflects. Then, finally, you come back to the gilded cage.”

“Prob'ly easier to stay in and have someone bring you a cuppa joe.”

“That's not the point. The point is, I used to be able to come and go as I please, and now I can't.” She resisted the urge to kick something. “Rapunzel's got nothing on me.”

“Poor baby,” the Dragon yawned. “How do you find the strength to go on?”

“Now you're just messing with me.”

The Dragon turned and beamed at her. “It's what I do, darlin'. Excuse me: Princess Darlin'. So if you don't mind my asking, what's next for you?”

“Princess lessons, I guess. Maybe smashing champagne bottles on a few cruise ships.”

“Well, there's worse royal families to end up in, you ask me.”

“That's hard to imagine.”

“Ha! Honey, I'm a history major and a writer. Know what that makes me? The biggest snoop you ever met.”

“With a wonderful ass.”

“Well, yeah. And historically speaking, most princesses were ugly and dumb from all the inbreeding.”

“What a lovely thought,” she said, appalled.

“History ain't lovely, honey. At least in this country, they don't much care if you marry one a' the
hoi polloi
.”

“I have noticed they're all ridiculously goodlooking,” she admitted. “Guess it pays not to keep marrying your cousin.”

“Check your mirror sometime, honey, speaking of ridiculous.”

“Well, biggest snoop I ever met, expert on the royal family, I have to admit I'm curious about something.”

“Shoot, darlin'.”

“What's your theory about Prince Nicky's parentage?”

Holly snapped her notebook shut and gave Nicole a look over her bifocals. “That's generally considered the rudest question you can ask in these here parts. You want to get along with your new family, I wouldn't bring it up. Ever.”

“Thanks for the advice.”

The sunny smile returned. “All part of the service, darlin'.”

Chapter 23

J
effrey had spent the last two hours guarding Nicole's closed bedroom door, then went to stroll the grounds on a break. And like a lovesick schoolboy, he was standing on the lawn beneath Nicole's suite, staring up at the windows.

Get it together, man.

He'd had flings before. He'd even been in love before. But no one had ever made him feel like this. Hot and cold and urgent and lusty and protective and angry and happy all at once or one right after the other.

It was . . . disconcerting.

He doubted Nicole had a clue. He prayed she didn't have a clue. It was too embarrassing, almost a clichÃ©; he was not in a Whitney Houston movie, for the love of God. And he outweighed Kevin Costner by forty pounds.

While he watched the window, he thought about the kiss. Thought about her scentâshe smelled like the outdoors, fresh and cottonyâand her sweetly yielding mouth. Thought about how he almost took her on the floor of her living room like aâlike aâ

He tried to shake it off. Never had he been so easily distracted while on duty; it was shameful. He was doing her no good if all he could think about was how she looked without herâ

Now what the hell was
this
?

The darkened window was silently swinging open and he grabbed for his gun out of pure ingrained training. Which would have been fine if someone was going
in
.

Instead, a lithe figure in dark clothes climbed out, hung from her hands by the sill, and dropped almost noiselessly to the roof of the pavilion. Swung over again, hung until her legs only dangled about four and a half feet above the ground, and dropped yet again. Then stood, looked around, and walked away without the slightest trace of a limp.

He holstered his gun and nearly fell to his knees, his relief was so great. The twit could have broken every bone in her body! Talk about your personal and professional disasters. He could imagine the conversation: “My king, the first night I was in charge of Princess Nicole's detail, she broke both her legs. Very sorry.”

He stepped out of the shadows to intercept her. “Going somewhere, Your Highness?”

“Gaaaaah! Jeez! Don't
do
that!”

“So very sorry, Your Highness.”

“Jeffrey, you bum, were you watching my window?”

“Of course. You didn't think we just hung around in doorways, did you?”

Hands on her hips, she advanced on him. He wondered how heavily armed she was. “I just want to take a walk, get it? And I don't want to bring the whole damn circus along, either.”

“How about just me, Your Highness?”

She chewed on her lip, which made him want to chew on her lip, and finally said, “Well, I s'pose. Let's hit the bricks.”

“Thank you, Highness.”

“Like you wouldn't rat me out if I didn't let you tag along.”

“So astute, Your Highness.”

“And that's another thing. I s
aw
you yesterday. On your break.” They were walking across the vast lawn, staying out of the pools of brightness cast by the floodlights. “Doing the
New York Times
crossword.”

She saw him? Well, that seemed fair, as he was acutely aware whenever she was within twenty yards of him. “Yes?”

“In ink.”

“I was all out of chisels.”

“But I've seen footmen treat you like your knuckles drag on the ground when you walk.”

“I know. Isn't it splendid?”

She stared at him, then laughed. “Ah. Ah-ha! I get it. Me big dumb bodyguard, me easily tricked, come into my web said the spider to the fly.”

“Or words to that effect,” he agreed, hands in his pockets so he wouldn't grab her for another kiss. “Let them think what they like. Let them assume a man my size is slow and/or stupid. I like it when they can't see me coming.”

“Now that's a philosophy I can get behind,” she said approvingly, and he grinned in the dark. “So where'd you learn to fish?”

“My dad, when he wasn't guarding the late king and queen. His dad before him. How about you?”

“I found guides and they taught me. I've spent more of my life in Los Angeles than Alaska, but I was always . . . I don't know . . . pulled?”

“Pulled,” he agreed. It was as fine a word for duty as any. Duty to country, or to self.

“I always wanted trees and rivers and green. I feel like there's a plan when I'm in the forest instead of all thisâthis”âshe gestured vaguely and he wondered if she realized she was pointing at the palaceâ“chaos.”

“They're a noisy bunch,” he said quietly, “and they've got tempers like you wouldn't believe. Or perhaps you would. But they're good people. There's a reason nobility comes from the word
noble
. The Baranovs showed me that when I was still a child.”

“Wow, Jeffrey, sounds like you've got a serious case of man-love,” she teased.

He didn't crack a smile. “They take nothing for granted; not their wealth, not our service. Nothing. And if someone shot me, he'd have his hands full with my king. I can dedicate my life to them because they have dedicated theirs to mine.”

She chewed on that one for a moment, then added, “Really noisy. Hair-trigger tempers.”

“Pot, meet kettle. Kettle, meet pot.”

“Oh, hush up. You and your unanswerable observations.” She was cupping her elbows and he realized that she was wearing only black leggings, flats, and a black T-shirt, and the sun had set two hours ago. He unbuttoned his suit jacket and slung it over her shoulders.

“Thanks. Stupid not to bring a jacket. Except I didn't have a black one.” She pushed her arms into the sleeves and huddled into it. “Hey, maybe I would have frozen to death and then wouldn't have to worry about any of this.”

“How nice that my career would have ended on a note of personal disaster, not to mention total disgrace.”

“Hey, nobody asked you to skulk outside my window.”

“I've been transferred to your detail,” he said, not telling her he'd slammed the paperwork through himself. Not telling her that the thought of someone else guarding her made him physically ill. “You don't have to ask me to skulk. Skulking is what I do.”

“Great.” She kicked at a tuft of grass. “What, you get demoted? That's a bummer.”

“Not . . . quite demoted, Highness.”

“Nih. Cole. Nicole.
Nicole!
You're wasting your time, you know. I thought you realized when we met that I could take care of myself.”

“Nicole Krenski, private citizen? No question. Her Royal Highness the Princess Nicole? The world is a big place, and there are an awful lot of people who wouldn't mind seeing you hurt. Or ransomed.”
Or dead
.

“I'm the same person I was two weeks ago,” she argued.

“Yes, Princess Nicole. To that end, you're the same person you were thirty years ago: Princess Nicole.”

“My mom was right not to tell me,” she muttered. “She was right to protect me from all this.”

“Your mother kept you from your rightful inheritance, from your destiny. And for what? To keep you to herself.”

Nicole swung around and even in the near-gloom he could see her blue eyes blaze. “Do not
ever
shit on my mother, Jeffrey, unless you'd like a pistol-provided enema.”

“If I have angered Her Highness, I apologize.”

“And stop talking about me in the third person!”

“A thousand apologies.” He paused and swallowed a snicker. “To Her Highness.”

This time the kick landed on his left shin, after which she spent a full minute hobbling in a small circle and groaning, “Ow, my God, oh ouch, oh ow, ow, ouch, ouch, ouch,
ouch
!”

“Do you require a doctor, ma'am?”

“No fucking doctor! Jeffrey, you are driving me
batshit
.”

“A thousand apologies.”

“Well, that's two thousand for me, then. And we're never going to talk about it again, are we?”

“Talk about what?” he said, playing dumb, which he did almost as well as Edmund.

“This,” she said, and caught him by the hair and pulled him down to her for a kiss that he thought might burn his mouth.