One Night with Her Brooding Bodyguard Page 3

  She snorted. “There’s no need to act as if you’re the hired help.”

  From the woman who had just handed him her bag! He wasn’t going to win this one, but he could take his victories where he could get them. Sophie was here. She was safe. If she was planning on being aggravating—and apparently she was—that was a small price to pay. He was going to have to pick his battles with her very carefully. And so he started the vehicle and put it in gear without saying what he wanted, which was that he was the hired help, and they’d both do well to remember that.

  But, of course, it wasn’t that simple, because she was right. They had a shared love of certain people that would make their lives forever more complicated and interwoven than he wanted them to be.

  She apparently read his intention to ignore her, and was having none of it. “Major, what’s new in your life since we last met?”

  “My life,” he said, “is relatively unchanging.” This fact was usually a comfort to him. Today, for a reason he did not care to explore, it felt different.

  “Wild adventures?” she prodded him. “A great vacation, maybe? Learned to play the bagpipes? Jumped in some fall leaves? Have a girlfriend? Acquired a dog? Or a plant? Something that needs you?”

  It bothered him more than he would ever let on that she had gone straight to his weakness. He had been needed once. It was not something he had taken to or wanted to experience again.

  “My job needs me,” he said.

  “Uh-huh.” She managed to utter that phrase with a total lack of conviction.

  Lancaster realized that tucked in her seemingly casual questions, between breaths, was what she really wanted to know.

  Lie, he ordered himself. This whole exercise was going to be so much simpler if she thought he had a girlfriend. But he found he could lie easily enough for her benefit—to get her to the safety of Havenhurst—but not so easily for his own.

  “Nothing has changed much for me since the last time we met,” he said.

  “Ah. Unlike me. I’ve moved six times. Traveled the world with a band. Had a great job. Lost a great job. Been engaged. Then not engaged. It’s been a whirlwind.”

  Her tone was light, layered with a new sophistication, as if she had breezed through the whirlwind life had thrown at her. He said nothing.

  “I don’t have the same illusions I once had,” she said firmly, “romantic or otherwise.”

  He didn’t say anything.

  “I’m trying to reassure you, Major. I mean, I did have a crush on you at one time. Obviously. I don’t anymore.”

  He wasn’t sure if he was relieved or disconcerted that she intended to tackle their history head-on. Did he feel just a tiny twinge of something when she said that?

  Yeah, like relief, Lancaster told himself sternly.

  “I’m cynical, now. Off men. Nursing a wound, so to speak.”

  Out loud, he said, “I’m sorry you’ve had a rough go, Sophie.”

  “I thought you weren’t going to call me by my first name.” She had pulled that thick wave of hair back over her shoulder and was running it between her hands. He could smell the scent of her shampoo—light, clean, a hint of lemongrass.

  “I thought so, too,” he said. That was a reminder how hard it was going to be not to cross lines with her. He needed to be quiet, now. Drive her to the castle. Hand her over to Princess Madeline, and the security detail he had handpicked for her.

  He told himself it was only because of his job that he needed to probe her mental state.

  “It happened recently?” he asked.

  “Last week.” She tossed her head as if it didn’t matter a whit. He wished she wouldn’t do that.

  “Still a fairly fresh wound, then.”

  “I’m not going to start crying, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

  He glanced at her. Despite her claim there were, indeed, tears sparking behind her eyes.

  “Anyway, I was engaged to one of the security guys for the band. I seem to go for a type, don’t I? Women found him completely irresistible.”

  Lancaster heard the sharp note of betrayal right under the flippant tone.

  “Anyway, it was not a pretty split. I broke a guitar over his head. It was a Fender. I got fired, which was totally unfair, but then, who expects life to be fair?”

  Lancaster slid her a glance again. He was not sure, but it seemed as if she might be more mad than sad. He was also not sure which would be easier to deal with.

  Not, he reminded himself, that he would be dealing with it. She would not be happy to know he already knew what she had just told him, except for the part about women finding her fiancé irresistible. He’d been caught by surprise when the prince had told him she’d been fired, but he’d done his homework since then. She’d think it was intrusive, how much he now knew about her.

  But that was his job. The more he knew about her, the better his chances of doing that job—keeping her safe, and by extension, the Royal Family.

  “How old are you, Sophie?” Of course, he knew that, too.

  “Twenty-two,” she said, annoyed. He couldn’t tell if she was annoyed that he had asked, or annoyed that he appeared to have forgotten, because they had shared this information before.

  “That’s very young to be making lifelong commitments.” What was he doing? Trying to comfort her? Trying to tell her it was a good thing her engagement had ended? Or warning her not to jump from the fire into the frying pan? Particularly if, despite her denials, the frying pan was him?

  “How old are you?” she asked him. “Thirty, now?”

  He nodded. He refrained from saying, though he wanted to, Way too old for you.

  “And how old were you when you got married?”

  He hesitated. “Nineteen.”

  “Humph.”

  “It was different for me. Havenhurst is different. It’s a more traditional kind of culture than the United States. People grow up faster here, marry younger. I had followed family tradition and joined the guard when I was seventeen, so I considered myself established at nineteen.”

  “Oh, and that wasn’t a lifelong commitment? Joining the guard? It’s kind of sad, really. Like, you were never young. Come to think of it, you act like you were never young. You’re way stodgy beyond your years.”

  He kept the sting of that from registering in his face. Stodgy? No, not just stodgy. Way stodgy.

  He kept his voice deliberately neutral. “I’m just saying maybe, in time, you may see it for the best that the job and engagement didn’t work out exactly as you planned.”

  “I think you may be right. I’m not ready to be like my folks. Or you. The fun grinds to a halt the second you make a commitment.” She regarded him thoughtfully. “I could show you a thing or two about having fun, Lancaster.”

  It occurred to him he did not know anything about her parents, beyond what was in his file on Sophie. Married for twenty-five years, settled in Mountain Bend. Were they not happy? Now was the wrong time to show interest in that, particularly since he knew she could indeed show him a thing or two about having fun. Again, he thanked years of discipline for not letting anything show in his face.

  He noted she had dropped the Major, just as he had inadvertently dropped the Miss. Small things, but indicators he was in a tricky situation.

  When she got no reaction, she gave a short laugh.

  “But you’re out of luck this time. I’m officially heartbroken. I won’t be coming after you,” she continued, her tone deliberately light. “Reigniting the old flame. It’s not in the cards. Sorry, it’s probably a disappointment to you. Every man loves to have someone shamelessly besotted with him.”

  There was no way to respond to that without getting in trouble, particularly since she had hinted her ex might be that kind of man, so he maintained his silence. He pulled up in front of the castle and saw her rea
ch for her door handle.

  “If you’ll just wait a moment, I’ll come around—”

  He got out of the car, but Sophie was not waiting for him to open her door for her. She flipped her hair one more time and slid quickly out of the car, as if it were a race. She opened the back door, grabbed her own bag and threw it over her shoulder.

  “Miss Kettle,” he said.

  She waved a hand over her shoulder at him. “Don’t trouble yourself. I’ve been here before. I know my way.”

  The stilettos were making it harder to make that getaway than she had probably thought it would be, and he could have easily caught up with her. She even glanced over her shoulder, daring him to come after her.

  He folded his arms over his chest, and narrowed his eyes, but resisted the temptation to follow her, and escort her to the prince and princess’s quarters within the castle.

  Despite the fact she he had been here before, a guest traipsing through the palace unaccompanied and unannounced was not the norm. He was not at all happy she was thwarting protocol, but he had a feeling he’d better get used to it, because she was not really under his authority and he needed to get over any illusion that she was!

  “Pick your battles wisely,” Lancaster reminded himself firmly. He watched until she was safely inside the palace doors, and then got back in the car and drove away.

  CHAPTER THREE

  A WEEK LATER Sophie picked her way along the darkening cobblestone path that led away from the castle, and then zigzagged its way down the steep cliff side from the palace grounds to the village below. She paused for a moment, aware she was a bit nervous. Maybe she shouldn’t have been quite so eager to slip her guard.

  She ordered herself to breathe, and as she watched, lights began to come on in the buildings—many of them dating back to medieval times. It was like watching a Christmas card come to life.

  She felt in her handbag for her flashlight—they called them torches here—because it would be full dark by the time she wound her way back up. She headed eagerly toward the promised warmth of those lights.

  She contemplated what she was experiencing on Havenhurst—something she hadn’t been expecting. She felt lonely. Adrift, almost.

  Sophie, deep in her thoughts, but already a little nervous, shrieked as something moved in the shrubbery beside her.

  “Miss Kettle,” Lancaster said, pushing himself out of the shadows.

  “Oh! You scared me!” And that was the only reason her heart was doing double time, she told herself firmly. She hadn’t seen Lancaster for the entire week. Somehow, she had thought he would be more a part of daily life, or at least that she would catch glimpses of him, cross paths with him when he came to visit his godson. She was guiltily aware she even selected her outfit each day with that in mind. Even though she was definitely no longer in the market, every woman wanted to be seen as attractive by a man like him.

  The truth was even though distance between them was the safest thing, she craved the company of someone she knew. Anyone! And she was glad she had on her snug designer jeans, tucked into high leather boots that might not have been the best for walking, but did show off the length of her legs to great advantage. She was wearing a gorgeous red cape against the autumn damp that was worst in the evenings, and she had a large designer bag that matched her boots.

  He did not look the least contrite that he had startled her. And he did not seem to take any notice of her outfit, whatsoever. In fact, his handsome features had a distinctly sour look on them, which should have made him less attractive, but didn’t. At all.

  “So, Little Red Riding Hood, what if it hadn’t been me lying in wait for you?” he asked, raising the dark slash of an eyebrow at her. “What if it had been the big, bad wolf?”

  “Don’t be silly.” Little Red Riding Hood wasn’t exactly the image she’d been trying for. His voice was so sexy it made the hair on her arms stand up.

  “I’m never silly.”

  “Shocking you’d make a reference to something as lighthearted as a fairy tale, then.”

  “Most fairy tales are very dark if you look below the surface.”

  “That’s something I wouldn’t have considered you any kind of expert on, fairy tales.”

  “The Tyrant Prince has his favorites.”

  The thought of Lancaster reading Ryan stories filled her with more longing for things she didn’t have. Things she had sworn off of, Sophie reminded herself firmly.

  “Were you lying in wait for me?” she asked.

  “Yes.”

  She looked into his face. Even in the poor light, she could see right below the slightly sour, impassive expression, a spark of anger glittered in those green eyes.

  “Where’s Guardsman Henderson?” he asked silkily.

  Sophie shrugged. “I think he’s still standing outside the powder room door on the nursery floor. Ryan’s in bed for the night, and it’s become my habit to go to town and have tea at that little shop Maddie started.”

  She loved that cozy bakery, and the cheery girls who worked there, how they were coming to know her and greeted her as if they were glad to see her.

  “I’m well aware of your habits,” he said tersely.

  He was?

  “Well, if it was anyone but you saying that, I could interpret it as downright creepy.”

  She was teasing him, but he did not seem receptive. She tried a different tack. She smiled at him. “Do you still love scones, Lancaster? Come have one with me. Do you approve of my pronunciation? Scone, as in gone, not scone as in cone?”

  But he wasn’t being dragged down memory lane, he wasn’t being put off and he didn’t smile back. From the expression on his face, Sophie was guessing he was not going to be joining her for a scone.

  “It’s the guardsman’s job to look after you,” he said, his tone tight. “What do you think happens to a soldier when he doesn’t do his job?”

  “He’s not in trouble, is he?” she asked, and felt genuinely contrite when she saw the expression on Lancaster’s face. “It’s not his fault. I don’t like being followed around. It’s unnerving and it makes people look at me sideways and afraid to approach me.”

  “Life isn’t always about what you like. Everyone on this entire island and beyond knows you are close to the princess. That makes her vulnerable, through you.”

  “Oh,” Sophie said. “I hadn’t thought of that.” She registered, slightly miffed, his concern was for Maddie.

  “You think you were assigned a guardsman because it amused me? Because I wanted to keep tabs on you?”

  “Look, obviously, you’re angry.”

  “I’m not angry.”

  “Oh, you are so! I’m going to have tea, so I’ll wait here if you want to send Ricky to walk me to the village. Though, really, so tedious for him. He won’t eat with me.”

  “Ricky?” he breathed. “I should bloody well hope he’s not eating with you! I just came across him wandering about, looking for you, and he admitted you gave him the slip last night, too.”

  “I found these hot springs, not too far a walk from the castle. I’m afraid I didn’t want him sneaking a peek at me while I had my lovely evening soak.”

  “No one under my command would ever sneak a peek at you.”

  “They’re just men,” she said.

  “They are not just men. They are guardsmen.”

  “Whatever. I’m not inviting any of them to the hot springs with me. And I’m not giving it up. It reminds me of Mountain Bend.” She hesitated. Really? If you had to pick someone to confide in, Lancaster would be an awful choice. But she had no choice.

  “I’m homesick,” she admitted softly.

  “You’ve been here a week! And you insinuated home wasn’t fun.”

  His response was not in the least sympathetic, but she felt she could not shut off the tap now that she’d opened
it.

  “My career and my travels gave me all the fun I needed,” she said, “and going home grounded me.” In fact, when she thought of the solidness of her mom and dad and the loyalty of her friends and that life being so far away she felt a sharp pang of longing...and loneliness. Even though she hadn’t lived in Mountain Bend for some time, and had made a small apartment in Portland home base, it was still always only an hour away. And the quiet of it appealed to her more now than she wanted to let on.

  It seemed too pathetic to admit to him that she was lonely, so she said she was bored, instead.

  “Prince Ryan, while he has his adorable moments, is mostly, as you said, a royal tyrant in a two-year-old body. And he has a nanny, who seems to be worried that I’m here to take her job, so I have to tread very carefully about how much I take on with him. Thankfully, he’s worn himself out by seven, because possibly I’d kill him if he was up any later than that.”

  “Note to self,” Lancaster said, still without any sympathy at all, “threat to Prince Ryan increases after seven in the evening.”

  “Go ahead and make a joke out of it, but I need adult interaction.”

  “Your best friend is here.”

  “Maddie’s not herself. She’s under doctor’s orders to remain in bed. I mean I love her dearly, but there’s only so much we can chat about. Besides, I’m a sympathetic vomiter.”

  “A what?”

  “If somebody else gets sick, I get sick, too.”

  “That’s not a real thing,” he said with authority.

  “It is. Google it. And I’m afraid it’s made our visits quite unpleasant.”

  “I’m trying not to imagine it.”

  “Why? If you don’t think it’s a real thing, imagine away. See what happens.”

  He glowered at her.

  “It’s quite a relief, actually, when Prince Edward arrives. He’s not a sympathetic vomiter, by the way. He seems to find Maddie quite adorable even hunched over the loo, gagging. Anybody who thinks royal life is all glitz and glamour could have an evening with the pair of them. Sitting on the bathroom floor, eating soda crackers and giggling.