Protecting The Princess Page 3

  “Er—yes?”

  The attacker sounded as confused as Harriet felt.

  “Excellent.” The man was all politeness and joviality once again. “Then remove your hand from her arm, and remove yourself from the vicinity, and we’ll all get what we want.”

  Harriet’s arm was immediately released as the drunk stumbled backwards.

  “I – I didn’t know that she – that you and she—”

  “Well, now you do,” the man quietly interrupted the slurred rambling. “So, be on your way.”

  Harriet watched in both relief and confusion as her harasser beat a hasty retreat, nearly falling over himself as he stumbled away.

  The silence in his wake was deafening.

  Harriet turned once more to stare in consternation at the overly familiar man.

  The grin on his face could charm birds from the trees.

  But Harriet was too bemused and frankly put out at his high-handedness to be charmed.

  “Now that that’s sorted, perhaps you would like to join me for some refreshments?” he asked.

  Harriet could only gaze in amazement as he bent and plucked up her luggage, one bag in each hand, as though they weighed nothing at all.

  “Shall we?” He smiled, acting for all the world as though they were the greatest of friends or—she swallowed nervously—or something else.

  Without awaiting an answer, he turned and headed toward the inn.

  Harriet closed her jaw with a snap as her irritation exploded to full anger.

  “Excuse me,” she called in her haughtiest tone. “Just who are you and where do you think you’re going with my belongings?”

  Chapter Four

  Jacob Lauer worked harder than he should have to control his irritation at Princess Harriet’s affronted tone.

  Ever since he’d received the missive from the Crown Prince himself the other day, the missive that had him swearing in every language in his repertoire, he’d been dreading this particular assignment.

  In fact, he’d been seconds from writing back to Prince Christopher to inform the man in no uncertain terms, that he was a spy, a solider, even an assassin if the situation warranted it. But not, under any circumstances, a nanny.

  Especially for a pampered, privileged princess.

  But common sense, and a talk with his oldest friend and confidante, led him to change his mind.

  “You can’t say no to a direct request from the Crown Prince of Aldonia, Jacob,” Hans said in that irritatingly reasonable tone. “Besides, she’s the Crown Princess. It will be a day or two at most before she runs back to the palace and her luxurious life. You’ll be back to a real assignment within a week. Finding out who the hell wants the royal family dead.”

  Much as Jacob would have loved to argue, he’d known his friend was right.

  So here he found himself, pretending to bump into the princess outside a coaching inn.

  It turned out that her brother’s concerns had been well founded. For Jacob had been watching her since he’d received Prince Christopher’s letter two days past.

  He’d watched her skulk around the kitchens after dark. He’d watched her thieving little hands steal a cloak from the servants’ quarters.

  And then he’d watched this morning as she’d snuck from the palace at the break of dawn. On the very day the Furbergs were due to come and take her to safety.

  Jacob had looked on, half amused, half annoyed that the lady was going to be more hassle than he’d hoped for, as she’d dragged two bags out the servant’s entrance of the kitchens.

  She’d been spotted by the guards almost immediately, of course, and only Jacob’s intervention had stopped them from marching her back inside. Prince Christopher knew his sister well and had instructed Jacob that if Harriet ran, he was to follow, not stop her.

  The prince had offered a brief explanation, though Jacob supposed he didn’t have to.

  “My sister is—tenacious,” the prince had explained with an air of exasperation that Jacob knew only a female could inspire. “If she has decided to run, then nothing will stop her. I’d rather you kept an eye on her than have her sent with the Furbergs and then go missing near the ships.”

  Jacob understood the prince’s plan, even as he resented being the one to have to implement it.

  So instead of the royal guards doing their jobs, he’d stepped in and told them to allow the princess to leave.

  That same intervention had led to the lady thinking she’d managed to escape unnoticed, of course. And had given her a misplaced sense of confidence in her abilities to blend in.

  It wasn’t just that she’d very obviously never been out alone, and certainly had never travelled alone. But she was so damned beautiful that she’d draw attention to herself dressed in rags. A fact that was sure to add to the difficulty of Jacob’s job.

  Jacob hadn’t meant to make his presence known until he’d tailed her to wherever it was she was planning on going.

  But he’d spotted the wastrel in the courtyard long before Princess Harriet had, and when the man had staggered toward her, Jacob hadn’t had much choice but to get involved.

  With his plan to stay unnoticed now an impossibility, he had to think on his feet.

  Something that was proving difficult in the face of the princess’s distractingly big brown eyes.

  Ensuring that his face was a friendly but emotionless mask, Jacob turned back to face the fuming Princess Harriet.

  Her outrage was exasperating. Didn’t she realise what could have happened if he hadn’t intervened?

  His method had been a little unorthodox, but that was only because he wanted to avoid a scene.

  And shooting the opportunistic blackguard between the eyes definitely would have caused a scene.

  Prince Christopher wanted his sister dealt with subtly and without notice. Again, the body of a drunken lout would definitely have been noticed.

  The princess was glaring at him, her eyes filled with both affront and bewilderment.

  “Forgive me.” Jacob sketched a bow, her bags swaying against his legs. “I felt it prudent to step in when I thought you might be in danger. It’s not safe for a woman to travel alone, Miss.”

  “Apparently not, given I’ve had one man try to accost me and now another stealing my bags.”

  Jacob bit back a reluctant grin. She was feistier than he would have expected.

  He suddenly remembered one morning a lifetime ago when he’d been trying his best to become a disciplined royal guard.

  He’d been late to drills. Again. And was suffering the wrath of his captain. Again.

  He’d looked up and seen Princess Harriet, then only a child of ten compared to his eighteen years, gazing down at the courtyard.

  And he’d briefly wondered what life would be like for the little princess given that it would be even more regimented than that of a soldier. If she did have a free spirit, it would be sure to have disappeared before she was in long skirts, he’d thought with a pang of sadness for the girl.

  Jacob knew all about the detriment of a free spirit.

  As the second son of the Count of Dresbonne, it had been expected of him to climb the ranks to become an estimable lieutenant.

  Unfortunately for the count, his son’s personality did not lend itself to the strictures of army life.

  Fortunately for Jacob, he proved himself skilled enough in areas that led to a far more exciting and lucrative, but far more dangerous life than that of a soldier.

  He’d become one of an elite group of agents reporting directly to Prince Christopher himself.

  He’d thought that his current assignment would be tracking down and disposing of the would-be assassin who’d come for the royal family not a week ago.

  When he’d received Prince Christopher’s missive the other evening, he’d assumed that he was being sent to find out who inside the palace could have been leaking information about the king’s private routine, and who would have sent a man to kill him.

  But
no.

  The letter had been akin to a request for a governess for the princess.

  Jacob had never spent any time with the princess. The nature of his work meant he spent more time out of Aldonia than he spent within her borders, and when he was around, he tended to avoid Society events that involved the royals and the peerage, lest he inadvertently embarrass his father, or accidentally get bored to death.

  He’d heard of the princess’s beauty, of course. And her grace. Her decorum. Her charitable endeavours.

  In short, she’d sounded as boring as every other lady of Society. The only difference being the crown on her head.

  But this outraged young woman, with her hands planted firmly on her hips, and her deep brown eyes glinting with fire, didn’t look like any other dull lady. And she wasn’t anywhere near a crown, or the security that came with one.

  “I’m not stealing your bags, Miss.” He offered his most charming smile, which only served to have her eyes narrow further.

  Jacob felt his own patience begin to wear thin.

  He was still trying to figure out what to do now that he’d blown his cover. He didn’t need her recalcitrance right now.

  “I just thought that perhaps you would be more comfortable sitting inside having some refreshments while you waited for the coach.”

  She eyed him speculatively.

  “I didn’t think it prudent for me to enter such an establishment alone.” She sounded a little defensive, and very untrusting, which was understandable given the circumstances.

  It also proved that she had at least a modicum of sense about her, although if that were true, she hardly would have snuck from the palace unnoticed in the first place. Or thought she did.

  “But you are not alone. At least not any longer.” He smiled.

  Maybe he was losing his touch. But she looked completely unmoved by what he had thought was his most charming expression.

  “Being with a complete stranger is hardly safer, or more prudent, than being alone,” she sniffed.

  Jacob gritted his teeth and strove for patience.

  They’d spent so long standing here arguing that the bloody coach would set off again by the time he’d persuaded her to get inside to relative safety and anonymity.

  Prince Christopher would be less than pleased if the Crown Princess were to be discovered alone at a coaching inn.

  “There is a very easy solution to that.” He kept his tone light but not flirtatious. He couldn’t afford to scare her off. “We can use the time until the coach leaves to get to know each other, and then we’ll no longer be strangers.”

  “That would still require me to go with you, currently a stranger, in order to become acquainted enough with you for you not to be a stranger any longer.”

  My God. The woman would argue with a brick wall.

  Jacob found himself in the unusual position of not knowing quite what to do.

  Ever since he’d begun working for the Crown, he’d taken every assignment in his stride. He was a crack shot, an excellent swordsman, and he was possessed of a sharp mind.

  He knew how to uncover state secrets, how to weed out traitors to the Crown, he could kill a man with his bare hands if necessary, and travel through Europe undetected.

  But damned if he could find a way to get this diminutive, spoilt bunch of outrage inside that inn.

  And now that they’d already “met,” he didn’t know how he’d keep her safe when she got to wherever she was going.

  He could lurk in the shadows of course, but that could mean potentially not being close enough should someone attack her.

  So his idea of being a townsperson wherever she landed, and befriending her gradually while also keeping an eye on her, had disappeared with the drunk he’d run off.

  His head was beginning to ache, and he still had no real plan.

  Perhaps it was time to take a bit of a gamble.

  Jacob placed the bags back on the ground.

  “Though our meeting is a little unorthodox, and certainly not as appropriate as I would like, allow me to introduce myself.” He sketched a perfectly polite bow. “My name is Jacob Lauer, and I am taking the coach to Gant.” He saw no harm in giving her his real name as he named the closest village to the Royal Winter Palace, which was where he figured she was going from the coach she was planning to take.

  He had no doubt she wasn’t silly enough to actually stay at the palace, but even when people were running they craved some level of familiarity, so she could perhaps be using it as a stop gap. Plus this particular coach travelled to that town. It was an educated guess and he could only hope he was right.

  “I was raised in a family of sisters and I’m afraid that my protective instincts caused me to act in a way that was perhaps not entirely proper. But now that you are safe and happy to remain alone, I shall leave you to it. Have a pleasant trip, Miss.”

  He turned on his heel and walked toward the inn, all the while hoping that his gamble would pay off.

  He’d taken more steps than he was happy about when she finally called out.

  “Wait.”

  Just one word, more command than request, but she was used to ordering people about, he supposed.

  Jacob ensured there was no trace of triumph on his face before he turned back around.

  Chapter Five

  Harriet didn’t know if she was making a mistake or not, but the truth was that the encounter with the drunk had scared the wits out of her and this man, though he seemed rather arrogant, also seemed rather capable.

  He’d mentioned sisters, too, which somewhat put her mind at ease. Even if it shouldn’t.

  And truth be told, she trusted him.

  She didn’t know if it was those big shoulders of his that looked as though they could carry the weight of the world.

  Maybe it was just that she felt completely and utterly lost and wanted so badly to lean on someone, just for a moment.

  He could be worse than the drunk, for goodness sake! Yet she didn’t think so.

  Wondering at her own sanity, Harriet called out and braced herself for a look of smug triumph.

  Yet when Mr. Lauer turned around, his expression was as friendly and polite as ever.

  “P-perhaps I might enjoy some tea,” she said grudgingly.

  His smile was a thing of beauty, but Harriet could not allow herself to notice such things. She needed to keep her wits about her.

  “Excellent, allow me then. Miss?” He bent and plucked up her bags again as though they weighed nothing.

  Harriet was about to give him her name when she stopped.

  Good heavens! She didn’t know what to call herself!

  All of her careful planning, and she hadn’t come up with a pseudonym.

  Though she hadn’t actually been planning on speaking to anyone, in her defence. Lonely, perhaps. But preferable to being sent away or having to endure the company of Althea Furberg.

  His raised brow indicated that he found her hesitation odd.

  “Harriet,” she blurted. “Harriet – er – Royal.”

  She almost cringed as the embarrassing name popped into her head. Apparently subterfuge wasn’t one of her strong suits.

  Still, it was done now and couldn’t be taken back.

  She thought that she detected a hint of amusement in his blue eyes as she introduced herself, but when she looked again, his expression was nothing more than friendly and polite.

  “Shall we, Miss Royal?”

  Still wondering if she was making a huge mistake, Harriet nevertheless nodded and followed him to the entrance of the bustling inn.

  When he hefted one of her bags to the other arm, holding them both in an easy grip whilst pushing open the door for her, Harriet couldn’t help but admire his strength and his manners. Perhaps he wasn’t as arrogant as he had first appeared.

  As she stepped inside, she glanced around the room, fascinated but not entirely comfortable with the tableau before her.

  The din of conversation was inte
rrupted frequently with raucous male laughter. The savoury smell of cooking meat battled with the smell of ale and sweat, interspersed every now and then with the cloying perfume of serving girls who flitted from table to table carrying tankard-laden trays whilst swatting away roving hands.

  The entire thing was a spectacle, and one she’d never witnessed before.

  The feel of a hand on the small of her back startled her, and she turned to see Mr. Lauer smiling down at her.

  “Wait here a moment.” He leaned in to speak in her ear, and Harriet almost grew dizzy inhaling the sandalwood and spice scent surrounding him. “I’ll be right back.”

  The gooseflesh that broke out on her skin just from the man’s proximity was ridiculous, and Harriet spent the few moments that he was away giving herself a stern talking to about it.

  Dragging in a mouthful of not entirely pleasant air, she watched him speak swiftly to who she assumed was the proprietor and give him a handful of coin.

  Within seconds he was back and picking up her bags once more, the portly landlord bustling after him.

  “If you’ll follow me, sir, miss.” He grinned at them both before leading the way through the lively crowd to a small wooden door.

  He swung open the door then stepped back to allow Harriet inside the room.

  She couldn’t help but breathe a sigh of relief when she walked through to the small, private dining room.

  There was a fire crackling in the hearth in front of which stood a highly polished table and four chairs.

  “I thought you’d be more comfortable in here.” Mr. Lauer smiled at her before turning to the landlord. “My wife and I are awaiting the coach,” he announced, and Harriet felt her jaw drop. His wife? “If you could bring a tea tray, some breads, cheeses, and cold meats, I’d be much obliged. And quickly, please. We don’t have much time.”

  With a bow, the landlord moved to do Mr. Lauer’s bidding, leaving them quite alone.

  “Your wife?” Harriet asked tartly.

  His answering grin seemed vaguely familiar, but Harriet couldn’t concentrate enough to wonder why. She was too distracted. The man had dimples, for heaven’s sake! As if he needed dimples to add to his handsomeness.