Protecting The Princess Page 4

  “I didn’t think it appropriate to have him know you were dining alone with a man you’d only just met,” he answered smoothly.

  “Oh. Y-yes, of course,” she stammered. She really should have thought of that herself. In truth, Harriet had never had to do much thinking for herself. Or been allowed to. Even when she and Alex had travelled to England and hidden the fact that they were royals, she’d been under Alex’s protection for the duration.

  “Come, make yourself comfortable, Miss Royal. It will be twenty minutes yet before the coach arrives. Plenty of time to eat and relax.”

  “Thank you,” Harriet said primly, removing her stolen cloak and bonnet, desperately hoping that he wouldn’t recognise her.

  She stood awkwardly holding them before he reached out and plucked them from her grip, resting them on a bench against the wall before moving to hold out a chair for her.

  She smiled her thanks before sitting and nervously wringing her hands.

  “You have nothing to worry about, Miss Royal,” he announced, taking a seat across from her. “I only want to see you comfortable before you make the trip to—wherever it is you’re going.”

  His smile seemed genuine, his countenance innocent. And his shockingly blue eyes gave no indication of recognition. Harriet could see no reason not to trust that what he said was true.

  “Why should you care for the comfort of a stranger?” she asked.

  “Because it is the gentlemanly thing to do,” he said smoothly before his mouth curled up in a wicked grin. “The fact that the stranger is such a beautiful one is merely a bonus,” he continued, right as the door opened and a maid bustled in with a tray.

  Jacob could have kicked himself as he watched a delicate blush stain Princess Harriet’s cheeks. But he found himself in the unusual position of being distracted whilst on a mission, and it had slipped out before he’d quite known what he was about.

  He took the time whilst the maid set the tray down and began to unload the teapot, cups, and plates of food, to get a hold of himself.

  Yes, he was distracted by Princess Harriet. By those eyes, that hair, the unusual mix of strength and vulnerability in her. Though he considered a princess running off alone the height of folly, he knew it took a certain amount of courage to do so.

  She had wit, too. Her choice of name proved that.

  But none of that was relevant to the job at hand.

  His job was to keep her safe, not admire her beauty or spirit.

  Princes Harriet set about pouring tea whilst Jacob filled a plate and pushed it toward her before filling his own.

  “So.” He kept his tone casual as the maid took her leave and left them alone. “Are you from Gant, or just visiting?”

  Her eyes shot up to his, and once again a delicate blush blossomed on her cheeks.

  “Oh, I – uh. I live there.”

  Jacob nearly smirked. She wasn’t very good at this. She’d never actually told him where she was going. But his guess, as it turned out, had obviously been right. And an imp of devilment awoke in him.

  “How wonderful. I shall be sure to call on you then, since I intend to stay awhile in the village.”

  “No!” she blurted. “I – that is you – well, I, I don’t live there. I mean, I did live there. Once. Before. But now, I don’t.” She stumbled to an awkward silence before lifting her cup to her mouth.

  Jacob averted his eyes lest he get distracted by her lips blowing on the liquid, on top of everything else vying for his attention.

  “So you are just visiting then?” he prompted.

  Honestly, who ran away in disguise without even a decent cover story? Jacob began to see why Prince Christopher was insistent on a minder for the girl.

  “Yes. No,” she stuttered before heaving a big sigh. “I am visiting but not for long. So – so you wouldn’t be able to call on me or, or even see me really, since it is a very short visit.”

  He almost felt sorry for her when he heard the desperation in her tone.

  “Your family are not worried about you travelling alone then?” he asked softly, watching her reaction.

  Her face blanched as her eyes widened.

  “M-my family?”

  “Yes, your family,” he repeated. “After all, it is obvious that you are gently bred Miss Royal, and I cannot imagine that your family would happily leave you unprotected.”

  That mouth popped open and Jacob watched in amusement as her dark gaze darted around the small dining room, as though a suitable answer would be lurking in a corner somewhere.

  “I don’t have a family. They’re dead.” She winced as she said it, and he could only imagine that she was suffering some sort of guilt for saying such a thing.

  “You are alone in the world then.”

  Her eyes shot back to his and narrowed slightly and she huffed out a breath, scowling with obvious irritation.

  “I am not alone,” she said. “I – I am on my way to a governess post. For a very prominent family. A family who is expecting me and will send someone to look for me should I not arrive on time. My time in Gant is just a brief stop to – um – rest before continuing the journey,” she finished weakly.

  Ah, so she’d suddenly decided to think of her safety then.

  “And I wasn’t asked this many questions in my interview for the post,” she tacked on tartly.

  “I’m glad to hear it.” He smiled in what he hoped was a reassuring manner, ignoring her pointed comment. “This world isn’t a safe one for a young woman alone.”

  “The world doesn’t seem to be safe for anyone at the moment.” She spoke softly, but Jacob heard every word and for the first time, he allowed himself to think of how scared Princess Harriet must be. For herself and her family.

  Why on earth then would she run away and endanger herself?

  Before he got a chance to ask any more questions however, a rap on the door signalled the arrival of the landlord with the message that the coach outside the inn was ready to depart.

  Standing, Jacob held out a hand to the princess.

  “Shall we?”

  She hesitated only a moment before she placed her gloved hand in his own.

  Chapter Six

  Harriet had never travelled by public coach before, and she hoped that she’d never have to again.

  And she found herself more grateful than ever that she’d met Mr. Lauer. Even if he was a bit arrogant.

  She didn’t know what would have happened if she were completely alone. The other occupants squeezed into the conveyance would have scared her witless; she knew that much.

  Just as she knew that she wouldn’t have found the feel of their legs pressing against her own as exciting as she found Mr. Lauer’s.

  Harriet couldn’t quite believe she was sitting here thinking of a stranger’s legs instead of thinking of what she would do when the coach arrived in Gant. Truth be told, much as she was glad of the company and safety of having Mr. Lauer as a companion, provided he didn’t turn out to be a murderer of course, she was worried about getting rid of him when their journey was at an end.

  They wouldn’t arrive in Gant until very early tomorrow morning.

  With only one stop scheduled to change horses and give the passengers and driver a chance to eat and stretch their legs, sleep was something they would all have to forgo. Or so Harriet had thought.

  Now, as she sat here pressed against the wall of the coach on one side and Mr. Lauer on the other, she watched the other passengers begin to drop off, their heads nodding about as though bobbing on water.

  Harriet was pleased for the reprieve from either lascivious or openly hostile glances from the occupants, and she thanked her lucky stars once more that she’d been befriended by Mr. Lauer.

  He’d once again managed to procure a private dining room for their dinner when they’d stopped and had even sent in a maid with a jug of fresh water to allow Harriet to freshen up. She would never have been able to enjoy relative comfort without him.

  But now
that they were mere hours from their final destination, she needed to figure out how to extricate herself from his company.

  He was a gentleman, so she guessed that he would never leave without seeing to her safety. And lord only knew how she’d slip away with two heavy bags.

  “You should try to sleep, Miss Royal.”

  His voice, lowered in deference to the time of night and their sleeping travel companions, had the oddest effect on Harriet. It sounded intimate, and her skin broke out in gooseflesh. All her reactions to him were most inappropriate. And inconvenient.

  “Oh, I – I’m not tired,” she lied.

  She was exhausted, truth be told. And when they got to Gant, she had to face a walk that would take half a day at least. Alone. And trying to manage her hefty luggage.

  It had been easier to be excited about her adventure when she’d been in the comfort of the palace, she thought wryly.

  “Tell me, will there be someone to meet you from the coach? A servant of your employers, perhaps?”

  “Of course,” she answered swiftly, glad that he’d dropped a solution to her problem of getting rid of him into her lap.

  Her heart twisted a little at the idea of getting rid of him and thus never seeing him again. But she ignored that because the heart, she now realised, was a foolish organ.

  Look at Christopher. His feelings for Althea Furberg had completely blinded him to the woman’s machinations.

  And whilst Lydia and Alex had worked things out, the start of their relationship had been anything but smooth.

  Besides, even if she was interested in Mr. Lauer, she was the Crown Princess. Her father would never consent to a match with an untitled gentleman.

  She thought back to the tragic tale of Aunt Anya. Harriet used to think it funny that her aunt and her mother shared a name. As a child, she hadn’t noticed anything but that about her deceased aunt.

  But having heard that the woman was ostracised completely for falling in love with an English aristocrat, she realised how unyielding a royal life really was. Even a princess, who could never inherit the Crown, wasn’t free to make her own decisions.

  And if an earl hadn’t been good enough for Harriet’s grandpa, who’d been king at the time of Aunt Anya’s marriage, then a mere gentleman could never be good enough for Father.

  “Miss Royal?”

  Harriet started as she realised that he’d been talking to her while she’d been wool-gathering, imagining herself marrying him, for goodness sake! She barely knew him and didn’t even like him half the time.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t quite catch that.”

  He smiled, and Harriet’s stomach dipped in reaction.

  “I said, I’ll be glad to meet the person sent to escort you onward, Miss Royal. It will put my mind at ease.”

  With another grin, he leaned back against the cushioned bench and closed his eyes.

  Well, Harriet thought, drat.

  She was committed to her lies, that much could be said for her.

  Jacob inwardly laughed as he wondered what nonsense she’d come up with to explain her lack of escort when they got to Gant.

  He questioned briefly if he should be enjoying himself this much. After all, this was just another job. One he needed expedited so he could return to the palace and do some real work.

  Being a spy had no glory, no offers of titles or lands as payment for service. But it was lucrative. And Jacob enjoyed it. Enjoyed the danger, the excitement, the freedom.

  Which was why this nannying would fast grow boring. He was sure of it.

  And much as he’d rather surprisingly enjoyed the company of Princess Harriet and was vastly amused at her attempts of subterfuge, he knew it could only be a day or two before he grew irritated at playing nursemaid to the girl.

  He heard her sigh, and she wriggled in the seat, her leg pressing against his own, and Jacob found himself gritting his teeth against a surge of desire.

  That was another thing.

  The attraction he felt was more than inconvenient. It was downright dangerous. So, the sooner he could put some distance between himself and the princess, the better.

  The carriage rattled and bumped its way along the road as Jacob gave the impression that he was sleeping.

  In truth, he was very much awake and aware of everything. He’d been aware of the man who tried to get into the seat beside the princess. And aware of the other man whose eyes were alert and hostile, leading Jacob to believe he was an opportunistic thief.

  And he was all too aware of the floral, springtime scent that surrounded the princess, just as he was all too aware of the way her dark, almost sable curls had loosened as the day wore on, with some now falling to brush against her shoulders. Aware, too, of the flecks of bronze in her wide, brown eyes.

  Jacob’s thoughts screeched to a halt as he felt the sudden drop of a head to his shoulder, and his senses were overwhelmed with that floral scent that had been driving him to distraction.

  His eyes snapped open and he looked down as much as he could without disturbing her. He saw nothing past the monstrosity of a bonnet that she wore in an effort to disguise herself.

  But the simple action of putting her head on his shoulder affected Jacob in ways that shocked him.

  The overwhelming feeling of protectiveness that surged within him went beyond mere duty to his assignment, and even to the Crown.

  It was all about the woman on his shoulder, and wanting, nay needing her to be safe.

  His blood ran cold as he thought for the hundredth time of what could have befallen her had she taken this journey alone.

  Still, she wasn’t alone, he reminded himself as his heartbeat picked up in the oddest way.

  He was here. And he was determined that she’d be safe. From her own impulsiveness as well as from whatever or whoever was threatening the royal family.

  The carriage hit a bump, and Harriet jolted slightly but instead of waking, she merely sighed and snuggled closer into his shoulder.

  Jacob swallowed past a sudden lump in his throat as his heartbeat skittered even more.

  And he knew, if he wasn’t careful, he could be in trouble.

  Chapter Seven

  Harriet slowly became aware of a bright light behind her eyelids, of unfamiliar sounds surrounding her. For a moment, she forgot where she was.

  Where was her satin pillow? Where was her soft, luxurious bedding? And what on earth was that wonderful smell?

  She turned her head into the warm, smooth skin pressed against her lips and inhaled deeply, relishing the feel of the corded muscles at her mouth.

  Her stomach knotted as desire, potent and unfamiliar, heated her veins.

  She was just getting ready to push herself closer to the rock-solid warmth pressed against her when a door by the side of her was thrown wide and a shout rent the air.

  Harriet bolted upright, the haze of sleep departing and reality swooping in. And with it, the knowledge that she had just been sniffing the neck of Mr. Lauer.

  Harriet felt her cheeks scald with shame, and she refused, simply refused to look at him.

  “Good morning, Miss Royal.”

  His voice sounded brightly beside her, the trace of amusement evident. “I trust you slept well?”

  “Uh – thank you, yes,” she stammered, acutely aware that she’d awoken not only with her mouth pressed against his neck, but the rest of her snuggled into him, too. For shame!

  “Good. Well, I think we need to get you out of the coach and fed as soon as possible.”

  His words made so little sense that she frowned up at him in confusion.

  “Fed?” she asked, wondering if her stomach had been grumbling loudly, causing even further embarrassment.

  “Indeed,” he answered gravely, his blue eyes boring into her own. “After all, if the door hadn’t opened when it did, I’m quite certain you would have eaten me alive. I was in fear for my life, Miss Royal. Or at least my neck. Clearly, it smelled good to you.”

  Harriet fe
lt her mouth drop open as unequivocal shame swept through her, bringing with it a healthy measure of anger. At herself for acting thus, and at the blighter now grinning wickedly down at her for being ill-mannered enough to bring it up.

  “I didn’t – I wasn’t—” She was so embarrassed she could barely get the words out.

  “Don’t trouble yourself, Miss Royal. I rather enjoyed the experience.”

  Harriet opened her mouth to deliver a scathing set down. But she couldn’t find the words. She could barely even see past the red mist of anger and embarrassment.

  Opening and closing her mouth like a demented fish, she finally settled on a strangled sort of scream of frustration before turning her head away from his amused smirk and scrambling out of the conveyance.

  She didn’t bother waiting for any sort of assistance, since someone had already placed a step at the door.

  Harriet stood fuming whilst the driver and coachmen removed the luggage from the top of the coach, throwing them, rather haphazardly to her mind, on the muddy road below.

  She kept herself rigidly still, her mortification, exhaustion, and hunger all vying for first place in her turbulent thoughts.

  How dare he? He was a cad. A blackguard. A scoundrel!

  Harriet’s bags suddenly hit the ground at her feet with a thump, and she immediately moved to retrieve them.

  Her muscles screamed in protest, sore from a bumpy night trussed up against that awful man, but she didn’t care. She’d rather die than let him offer any sort of assistance.

  She couldn’t believe she’d ever thought him gentlemanly or charming.

  Harriet bent and hefted one of her bags. Straightening back up, she almost toppled over with the weight of it, but she managed to stay upright, even if she staggered a bit.

  Huffing out a breath, she eyed the next bag, trying to figure out just how she’d manage it.

  She looked hopefully at the men who’d worked on the coach, but they’d finished throwing luggage on the ground and were even now moving off toward the stables of the inn.

  Harriet wondered fleetingly where Mr. Lauer had gone, but she absolutely refused to turn around to look for him.