Protecting The Princess Read online

  “Right.” She took a deep breath, shifted her bag to one hand then leaned down to pick up the next.

  The heavy bag she held swung forward, and she had to drop it lest she fall into the muck.

  Harriet threw her eyes heavenward, praying for patience.

  She was starting to sweat from her efforts and the bright morning sun beating down on her back.

  “Come on, Harriet,” she mumbled to herself. “You can do this.”

  With renewed determination, she flung back the material of her cloak, pushed up the sleeves of her simple muslin gown and bent forward to clap both bags.

  With a very unladylike grunt, she heaved the bags up, managing to lift them both a few inches off the ground.

  She thought longingly of the small gig she’d stolen from the palace grounds so she didn’t have to carry her bags before abandoning it near the public coach.

  She felt as though her arms would fall off with the weight of the bags, but at least she was carrying them.

  Taking a huge breath, Harriet turned—and smacked straight into a solid wall. A warm, rather nice smelling solid wall.

  She gasped aloud, the bags dropping to her feet. She would have fallen backwards onto the dirt if a large pair of hands hadn’t shot out and grabbed her.

  “What are you doing?” she demanded through gritted teeth, her annoyance at his earlier teasing, coupled with her annoyance that he’d made her drop her hard won luggage, making her more than a little grouchy.

  “I wondered if I might be of assistance, Miss Royal?”

  He was all politeness and charm. But she wasn’t fooled by it. The man was a veritable cad, teasing her and flirting with her and making her heart beat inexplicably fast.

  “No, thank you,” she answered as primly as she could considering he still held her, his big, overgrown hands searing her even through the material of her gown.

  The cloak was still flung over her shoulders in a ridiculous fashion. Her skin was burning, her eyes were stinging, and she was feeling more than a little overwhelmed.

  Harriet found herself wishing for a moment that Christopher had sent someone charging after her. If she were to be dragged back to the luxury of the palace, she could protest quite vocally about it and pretend she wasn’t secretly pleased.

  But she was committed now and truth be told, Harriet didn’t think she could face another journey like the one she’d just taken so soon. Especially not alone.

  “Remove your hands from me at once,” she bit out, aware that she couldn’t have sounded haughtier if she tried.

  Mr. Lauer immediately removed his hands, holding them up in a manner that was probably intended to placate her but merely served to anger her further.

  How dare he stand there with his hands up as though she were the one being unreasonable?

  “Your companion doesn’t seem to have made an appearance, Miss Royal.” He dropped his hands and stepped forward, forcing her to stumble back, tripping over one of her loathsome bags.

  “And?” she huffed.

  In truth, Harriet had never been so unfriendly, nor so ill-tempered.

  But there was just something about the handsome stranger that set her on edge.

  And she was more than a little embarrassed at having sniffed the man.

  “And as I said when you sniffed me—” He grinned now as though he’d known where her mind had wandered. “I feel that I should at least see that you’re fed while you’re waiting. Perhaps he, or she, is delayed?”

  Harriet’s temper flared again.

  “Mind your own damned business,” she spat before she could stop the words. She clamped a hand over her mouth, but of course, it wasn’t as though she could put the words back in.

  Never before had she cursed. She was the Crown Princess, for goodness sake! This – this cad brought out the very worst in her.

  As she stared at him in horror, a grin suddenly broke out across his face and those dimples made an appearance. Despite her hatred of the man, Harriet’s heart still stuttered at the sight and that just made her even more annoyed.

  Pointedly turning her back on him, she bent down and hefted the bags. Her mortification lent her a strength she didn’t know she had, and she managed to get them both off the ground without falling over.

  With as much dignity as she could manage, Harriet tilted her chin and marched off, away from him and his arrogance, and his dimples.

  Her march lasted a couple of seconds before the weight of the bags began to take effect, but Harriet would rather die than stop or put them down while he was watching.

  So, on she went. At more of a shuffle than a walk. But at least she was doing it alone, without any help.

  And, she told herself with a spurt of pride, she’d managed to get away from the palace and to Gant all alone without interference.

  It felt good to be independent. And she wasn’t going to let Christopher, or Alex, or that awful Mr. Lauer stop her.

  Chapter Eight

  Once again, Jacob found himself torn between amusement and frustration as he watched Princess Harriet shuffle away like an eighty-year-old woman.

  She had gumption; he’d give her that. And he hadn’t expected it from her.

  In truth, he hadn’t expected any sort of personality at all. In his experience, women of the upper echelons of Society were banal in the extreme. And Princess Harriet was literally their leader.

  But he’d been wrong. She had more personalities than he knew what to do with, in point of fact. And at the moment, she was a veritable shrew.

  Jacob muffled an oath as she staggered away then laughed softly as his own swearing reminded him of hers.

  The perfect princess with the muck mouth.

  He shouldn’t have riled her up like that—teasing her the way he had.

  But he hadn’t been able to help himself. For some reason, he thrived on getting a reaction from the princess.

  And teasing her had been a sure fire way to get her het up and away from him. Something he’d definitely needed to do at the time.

  Truthfully, as inconvenient and unwelcome as it was having her lying against him so trustingly then feeling those lips pressed to his skin, it had awoken a desire in Jacob that he’d never felt before. There was no escaping it, and no getting around it.

  And God help him, he knew that if he’d stayed there, with her pressed against him like that, and her lips tantalisingly close, he’d have kissed her.

  It had gotten her away from him well enough. And given him some much-needed space to get his body back under control.

  But it had backfired, too.

  Jacob hadn’t accounted for the woman’s sheer stubbornness, and now he had to think on his feet again.

  How was it that a nannying job had caused him more hassle in twenty-four hours than any of his other jobs did in weeks?

  He watched worriedly as she stumbled before righting herself. He’d carried those bags. They were manageable but heavy, and the princess was positively tiny compared to him. She wouldn’t get far with the weight of them.

  And Jacob couldn’t even allow himself to think of the trouble she could get herself into alone on the road like that.

  The Winter Palace was a goodly walk away, even without luggage. She’d never bloody make it!

  As he watched, one of the bags fell from her grip, and he laughed aloud as she kicked the offending item before bending to retrieve it.

  His mouth dried at the view and he turned away quickly.

  Jacob had done a lot of stupid things in his time but lusting after the Crown Princess of Aldonia was bad, even for him.

  He gave his head a shake, refocusing himself.

  The job here was to keep the princess safe until she gave up on this ridiculous exercise and went home. Then he could get back to his real life and the investigation into the assassination attempt.

  That meant he had to stop being amused by her temper, or charmed by her wide-eyed innocence, or attracted to any part of her.

  Igno
ring the ridiculous surge of protectiveness he felt around her, Jacob turned back toward the inn.

  If he was going to carry out this assignment correctly, he needed to give her a head start.

  Even if he didn’t want to.

  Jacob walked toward the inn, his mind filled with hastily made plans. If she gave up as quickly as he hoped, they could be back at the palace within a couple of days.

  For now, he’d eat and find a conveyance of some sort.

  His stomach churned uneasily as he imagined Princess Harriet on the road alone and struggling, but he ruthlessly ignored it.

  She was a job. Just a job.

  Independence was highly overrated, Harriet decided.

  The day was far hotter than it should be for this time of year, she was sure.

  The sun felt like a blazing fire beating down upon her back, and her arms felt as though they would drop off any minute.

  She felt as though she’d been walking for days, and she daren’t take a break lest she sit down and never stand up again.

  “You can do this,” she said aloud, hoping it would make the sentiment true. “This isn’t difficult. You wanted this,” she reminded herself.

  Her stomach rumbled, and her throat was parched. Her feet were hurting, and she could almost guarantee that her toes were blistered.

  Harriet glanced up at the sun and was dismayed to see that it hadn’t even moved. It felt as though she’d been walking all day. The truth was it had probably only been a couple of hours.

  She felt pathetic tears spring to her eyes but refused to let them fall. What sort of adventuress cried because her feet hurt, for goodness sake?

  The distant sound of horses’ hooves caught Harriet’s attention, and she spun around to look hopefully down the road.

  If someone could offer her assistance, could get her closer to her destination, she would be eternally grateful.

  And she would pay, of course.

  She’d nearly promise someone all the jewels in the royal stores to be able to sit down and have something or someone else carry her bags for a while.

  As she watched, a gig came into view, the wheels and hooves of the horse kicking up dust on the dry dirt road.

  The sun prevented Harriet from being able to see clearly, but there was a lone occupant and it was obviously a man. A big one, too.

  Once again, Harriet found herself with a difficult decision to make. It wasn’t safe, she knew it wasn’t safe, to travel alone with a strange man. Yet she’d never get anywhere at this pace, and the daylight wouldn’t last forever.

  She squinted against the bright sunlight but couldn’t make out anything about the man other than the sheer size of him.

  As the conveyance came closer, Harriet made a snap decision and dropped the bags so she could wave the driver down.

  The truth was that she wasn’t going to get anywhere near her destination on foot, and the road alone in the middle of the night, surrounded by deep, dark forest, was sure to be far more dangerous than travelling with a man who could be a kindly farmer, or even a vicar.

  Harriet felt her spirits rise as she reminded herself that she was far more likely to meet someone kind and pleasant than a would-be murderer.

  Her mood immediately lightened at the prospect of a seat and not having to carry her luggage, and she stepped more fully onto the road and prepared to get the driver’s attention.

  Before she lifted her arm however, she studied the form of the driver more closely.

  There was something familiar about the set of his shoulders. A niggling familiarity.

  As she studied him, a frown of concentration marring her brow, a dawning horror awakened in her.

  “Oh, no,” she whispered.

  Every expletive she’d ever heard Christopher and Alex express tumbled around in her head.

  She considered running but it was too late. In any case, running was out of the question with those blasted bags.

  While Harriet stood there wringing her hands over what to do, the gig drew to a stop.

  “Miss Royal, we meet again.”

  Harriet gritted her teeth as she looked into the smugly grinning face of Mr. Lauer.

  Chapter Nine

  The scowl on Princess Harriet’s face could have curdled milk, and Jacob found himself grinning like a dolt.

  He had no idea why her irritation with him amused him so.

  He studied her as she stood there, hands placed firmly on her hips, riotous sable curls escaping the confines of the oversized bonnet.

  “What are you doing here?” she bit out, the chocolate depths of her eyes sparkling with ill-concealed annoyance.

  “Why, I’m driving my gig, Miss Royal. What are you doing? Where is your companion?”

  He arranged his features to show polite concern and nothing more.

  “He – she – um—”

  Jacob watched her flounder for a moment or two before he took pity.

  She really was dreadful at this.

  “Perhaps there was a delay in sending the servant to you?”

  Her eyes widened.

  “Yes!” She dove on the proffered excuse. “Yes, that’s exactly it.”

  “Well then, allow me to drive you to wherever you are going, Miss Royal.”

  “Oh, um, I’d rather—”

  “Miss Royal,” he interrupted her before she started throwing around poor excuses. “It’s hot, and I’ve felt for myself how heavy those bags are. Please, allow me to assist you in this. I can drive you to your destination, and you’ll never have to see me again.”

  He watched as she contemplated his words, chewing her lip in a way he was determined not to be distracted by.

  Jacob had waited in the inn baffled by his level of concern for the princess before he’d decided two hours was enough time so that it could reasonably be a coincidence to meet her on the road.

  He’d spent far too much money obtaining this gig and gelding from a drunken farmer before setting out after her.

  The entire way, he’d berated himself for his over-inflated sense of worry about the girl. But, he had been relieved to reason; it was his job, after all. The prince wanted his sister safe, and wanted Jacob to be the one to keep her safe. That was all. He’d been happy, too, with such reasoning, confident that it was attention to the detail of the job, and nothing more that was causing this unusual worry.

  Then he’d spied her struggling along the road, and his heart had squeezed in the most unusual and disconcerting manner.

  She looked tiny and vulnerable even now when she was glaring at him.

  And even though the entire assignment was anathema to Jacob, he couldn’t help but have a grudging admiration for the lady’s spirit.

  Still, now was not the time to be admiring any part of her.

  “You can’t,” she blurted, dragging his mind back to the matter at hand.

  “Why not?” he asked.

  “Where I’m going is – um – out of the way.”

  Ah. Jacob realised she couldn’t very well ask him to drop her off at her palace.

  Again, he wondered at her complete inability to put together any sort of reasonable, workable plan, and he found himself actually feeling grateful for Prince Christopher having the sagacity to have engaged Jacob’s help.

  Though he’d have preferred the job to have been someone else’s. Especially when she was glaring at him like that.

  He pretended to consider her words before hopping down from the gig so he could stand in front of her.

  Her face was flushed. He’d guess from the exertion of dragging her luggage up the road. And probably from the hatred she felt within when looking at him.

  “I don’t mind driving out of the way if it means you are safe, Miss Royal,” he said. And he meant it. He’d drive her all the way back home right now if it kept her safe.

  Princess Harriet stared at her bags for an age.

  “W-well, I—” She stumbled to a halt then suddenly lifted her gaze to meet his own, and damned if his
heart didn’t stutter as her huge brown eyes met his.

  And Jacob felt sorry for her. She was in over her head, and she looked fed up and worn out.

  It was all well and good trying to catch her out, but standing here arguing whilst she was dead on her feet wasn’t exactly taking care of her.

  “Perhaps as a compromise I could at least bring you closer to wherever your destination is?” he asked, watching her face carefully, whilst she did the same.

  It was obvious that the princess was hesitant about trusting him, yet she seemed to believe all of his subterfuges easily enough.

  She was naïve. Innocent and unused to the real world. And that’s why the world was so dangerous for her.

  Even ignoring the possible threat to her life.

  “I’m heading in the direction of the Winter Palace,” he announced, once more checking her reactions.

  As he’d suspected, her face gave her away.

  Her eyes widened, and for a moment they filled with a relief that would have given her away to an amateur.

  “Oh, um. That is – that is quite close to where I’m staying.” She tried to sound casual, but he wasn’t fooled. She was practically salivating as she eyed the carriage.

  He could practically see the cogs in her brain turning. He could only imagine that she was torn between giving away her location and being stranded here on the side of the road.

  “Then allow me to take you at least as far as there, Miss Royal,” he said smoothly, keeping his tone clear of any inflection.

  She eyed him closely for a moment, and Jacob felt a sudden bout of nervousness.

  If she refused his help, he wouldn’t have a lot of options left. Kidnapping her seemed extreme.

  “Very well,” she finally answered to his relief. “But only as far as the outer wall of the gardens,” she insisted. “I can manage from there.”

  Jacob felt a surge of relief but kept his face smooth as he nodded his agreement.

  Then, before she could argue any more about anything else, he bent and plucked her bags from the ground, stowing them on the floor of the conveyance.