The Princess and the Bodyguard Read online

  Magic and Love 2

  The Princess and the Bodyguard

  Peter Jones has been in love with Rachel de la Croix since she was just sixteen. Now she's all grown up. Problem: aside from the fact he works for her father, the king, Peter figures he is in no way a fit mate for a princess.

  Rachel de la Croix, former wild child, has an agenda: get Peter Jones to fall in love with her. But the stern chief of her father's security force treats her like a recalcitrant child. Will an unexpected threat from her past open his eyes or drive them apart forever?

  Hannah forgives Alex for not telling her he was king. Alex vows never to keep anything from Hannah again. Dare he tell her he doesn't want her as his mistress but as his queen?

  Sensuality Rating: SCORCHING

  Genre: Contemporary Romance

  Length: Novel (49,000 words)

  THE PRINCESS AND

  THE BODYGUARD

  Magic and Love 2

  Morgan Ashbury

  EROTIC ROMANCE

  Siren Publishing, Inc.

  www.SirenPublishing.com

  ABOUT THIS E-BOOK: Your non-refundable purchase of this e-book allows you to one LEGAL copy for your own personal use. It is ILLEGAL to send your copy to someone who did not pay for it. Distribution of this e-book, in whole or in part, online, offline, in print or in any way or any other method currently known or yet to be invented, is forbidden without the prior written permission of both the publisher and the copyright owner of this book.

  THE PRINCESS AND THE BODYGUARD

  Copyright © 2007 by Morgan Ashbury

  ISBN: 1-933563-44-3

  First E-book Publication: November 2007

  Cover design by Jinger Heaston

  All cover art and logo copyright © 2007 by Siren Publishing, Inc.

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.

  All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

  PUBLISHER

  Siren Publishing, Inc.

  www.SirenPublishing.com

  Dedication

  For Christopher

  THE PRINCESS AND

  THE BODYGUARD

  Magic and Love 2

  MORGAN ASHBURY

  Copyright © 2007

  Prologue

  Eugenia and Gwendolyn, fairy godmothers both, sat comfortably on a cloud and looked down on the scene below. This evening, the private dining room at the Villa D’Or, an exclusive resort on the coast of the Mediterranean, hosted the royal family of Boisdemer and several members of the family Jones from Canada. At one end of the long table, His Majesty Alexandre Michel Philippe Artur de la Croix presided over the meal with a proud smile. At the other end of the table, Hannah Jones, mother of the newly betrothed Catharine, wore an expression that appeared equally content.

  “My, my,” Eugenia sighed, shaking her head slowly. “Do you see that, sister?”

  “I do. I certainly do. She peeks at him when she thinks no one is looking. He believes himself so clever to be watching her, unobserved. And everybody else is trying to figure out how to get Hannah and Alex together again.”

  “They’re not the only ones,” Eugenia muttered. “Never have I met a more stubborn woman.”

  “Well, now, sister, that isn’t exactly true. If you recall, there was that one in England…”

  “Quite right. How could I have forgotten that one?”

  “Wishful thinking?”

  Eugenia laughed and then turned her attention back to the people below. “So lonely, both of them. So very much alike. Neither can forgive themselves for the mistakes they’ve made.”

  “You’re looking at the younger ones now.”

  “I am.” Eugenia sighed heavily. “It’s a good thing Catharine and Philip’s wedding will take place so soon.”

  “Yes, I agree. That will be an enormous infusion of power for us.”

  “It will.” Eugenia turned and smiled at her sister. “I have a feeling that before our work here is done, we’re going to need all the help we can get.”

  Chapter 1

  “There you are, you snake in the grass! I’ve been looking all over for you. Don’t you even think about escaping!”

  The tall man with the lean physique of a swimmer and the grace of a dancer stopped with one hand on the doorknob and gave her a cool smile just shy of a smirk.

  “Don’t be ridiculous, Your Royal Highness. Not even you can order me not to think about something.”

  His patronizing tone pushed Rachel de la Croix’s temper even closer to eruption. With her anger simmering since she’d been summoned to her father’s office half an hour before, she needed someone to vent it on. Pure chance had brought her to the solarium on this beautiful Sunday morning, and karma had placed this man here and now. Who better to blast than her father’s security chief?

  “Don’t you ‘Your Royal Highness’ me, Peter Jones. I don’t know what the hell you told my father, but I want you to march right back to his office and take it back!”

  “No way in hell, Rachel.”

  Peter lost his faintly amused veneer and turned deadly serious. She’d not seen quite that look on him before, but the coldness in his eyes sent a chill down her spine. No one had shared the details of Peter’s past with her. Right now, she wouldn’t be surprised to learn he’d killed a few men along the way.

  Inhaling deeply, she forced herself to ignore that look, whatever it meant. She wouldn’t let curiosity or thoughts about what had made him the man he was distract her. The time had come, she resolved, for this “handling” by her family—by her father—to come to an end.

  “My father has informed me I am not to leave the palace grounds without you in tow. This isn’t the usual discreet surveillance by members of your staff from a respectful distance. Oh, no. But you. With me. In the same vehicle. Everywhere. Merde!” Rachel grabbed her hair in frustration, nearly screaming the last word.

  “Sorry about that, toots. I know it’s going to cramp your style with whatever flavor-of-the-week young stud you have warming the sheets for you, but that’s too damn bad. This is a matter of national security.”

  National security, my ass! Rachel paced as she tried to think. But thinking for her had always been difficult near this man. Peter’s assessment of her love life only added insult to injury. One of his minions must have fallen down on the job if the security chief didn’t know that her sheets had been sadly lacking in the stud department for a long, long time. This felt like a big conspiracy between her father and Peter. She would bet on it. Obviously, being two years clean and sober didn’t mean a damn thing. They didn’t trust her. They’d noticed her distraction lately, her moodiness, and they’d attributed it to the easiest excuse they could find. Rachel was using again.

  Well, Rachel isn’t using again. She’d made a mistake a couple of years ago. A bad one. But it had been a mistake and had nearly cost her not only the love and respect of her family, but also her very life. When she thought back to that time now, she felt stupid. Judging by the look of determination on Peter’s face, nothing she said would convince him she could be trusted.

  And if I can’t convince him of that, how the hell am I ever going to convince him I’m in love with him?

  Emotionally deflated, she turned mid-pace and skewered him with a look she knew was pure ice, because she felt frozen inside.

  “Since you seem to believe I have the morals of an alley cat, I’m amazed you didn’t make a comment about having the opportunity to become a voyeur. Never
mind. Do what you have to do, I don’t care. Just stay the hell out of my way. In case it has slipped your tiny little mind, your sister is marrying my brother in three weeks. I am nearly done with making the wedding gown, but there’s still a lot left to do on the bridesmaids’ dresses—not to mention setting up The Couturier. My brother, at least, seems to think that I have something of value to contribute to the economy of our country by opening this fashion house, so don’t try to stop me.”

  “I have no intention of stopping you when you’ve found your niche at last.”

  She couldn’t detect a hint of sarcasm in his voice. The man sure as hell kept her off balance. One minute he’s all but calling her a whore, the next he’s acting like a proud big brother. How could she keep up?

  Still a bit unsettled by his seeming mood swing, she found herself babbling about her project. “I never thought that being a designer of clothes would be good enough to make a career of. But Helene became excited when she saw my designs. Your sister, too.” Helene, her sister-in-law, had convinced Michael and their father what an economic boost it would be for Boisdemer to have its own design house. The family decided to invest in Rachel’s new enterprise, and she was determined they would never regret it.

  “And your ability to design and make the dresses immediately means Catharine and Philip can get married sooner rather than later. Yes, I heard all the girly chatter at the engagement dinner last week.”

  Despite his dismissive words about the “girly” talk, Peter’s tone softened tellingly when he spoke of his sister. Rachel’s belly quivered. She imagined his voice softening like that—well, maybe not quite like that—when he spoke about her.

  “The best thing in the world is to build a career from what you love to do,” he finished quietly.

  They shared a smile. At moments like this, she could almost believe that Peter saw her not only as a woman, but also as a desirable woman. Almost. Running her hands through her long hair, she marshaled her thoughts to get their conversation back on track, namely, to the fact she didn’t need him to babysit her.

  “I do not understand why you need to be with me everywhere I go. Papa mentioned heightened publicity. The spotlight of the world is shining on Boisdemer because Philip is marrying Catharine. Fine. But what has that to do with me?” She felt her throat tighten and turned her face away from him. Damn it, she would not cry. She hadn’t planned to plead her case, but the words slipped out. “I swear to you, I’m not using drugs again. I barely even drink alcohol anymore. I can be trusted.”

  “Ah, fuck.”

  She heard his approach, but still was unprepared when he spun her around to face him. His grip on her arms was the only thing that kept her from stumbling.

  “You’re too smart to think this has anything to do with that. Damn it, Rachel, I know you’re not using. That has nothing to do with these heightened security measures. If I could trace the source of those damn letters, then—”

  “Letters? What letters?”

  He looked annoyed. While he seemed to weigh what to say next, she gripped his arms and gave him a shake.

  “Am I never to be treated like an adult in my own home? What letters?”

  “I guess your father didn’t want to frighten you.”

  “Oh, of course. Much better for me think no one trusts me.”

  “Honest to God, Rachel—”

  Because Peter looked so upset, she relented. Smoothing away her anger, she took a step back and folded her hands in front of her. “What letters, please?”

  As if surprised to find he still held her, he slowly lowered his hands. His words were quiet and carefully chosen. “We’ve received threats.”

  “Against me?”

  A pause. “Yes.”

  The very idea seemed ludicrous. Why would anyone want to threaten her? “I want to see these letters.”

  “Rachel, I shouldn’t. Not without your father’s permission.”

  “Then get it. I will come to your office before three. That is when I must leave for a meeting with the building owner to sign the lease for the space for my business.”

  She didn’t give him a chance to argue. The sound of his low, steady cursing followed her out of the room.

  * * * *

  Hannah Jones wondered what in hell she was doing in the backseat of a limousine on her way to the royal palace of Boisdemer.

  In the three weeks since she’d arrived in this beautiful Mediterranean country, her life had turned upside down and inside out. First, she’d met the most sinfully sexy man she’d ever known and had dived straight into her first ever affair. Then her daughter, Catharine, had met and fallen in love with a prince of a guy. Literally. Now Catharine and Philip were to marry, which meant her daughter and grandson would be staying in this land across the ocean from home.

  Not a bad thing, really. Her daughter was finally as happy as she deserved. The only tricky part was the father of the groom, whom Hanna would soon be face to face with and a guest of was King Alexandre Michel Philippe Artur of Boisdemer. Her lover.

  Two weeks had passed since she’d been alone with Alex. Two weeks since she’d learned his real identity. She didn’t know now if she could easily sum up the emotions that had run through her since then. At first, of course, had been fury mixed with hurt.

  He’d lied to her.

  Nothing mattered more to Hannah than honesty, especially honesty between lovers. Her late husband had dropped casual lies all the time. Oh, he’d never had an affair or done anything bad that one would even think required lying. He simply lied. About little things. About silly things. The habit had driven her crazy. Over the years, it had become just one more thing that had eroded her love for him.

  Which was why Alex’s lie by omission hurt her so deeply. She was completely, foolishly in love with the man.

  The second reaction she’d had to his prevarication had been humiliation. She thought he’d kept the truth from her because he felt ashamed of her and didn’t want to be seen with her in public. Discovering his identity had made her feel like a closet doxy.

  Gradually, though, when news of the engagement and upcoming nuptials had hit the worldwide media, the man had engineered many “photo ops,” ensuring he stood right beside her in every one.

  So now, she would soon be his guest. Catharine had begged her to come and stay at the palace, wanting them to spend as much time together as possible before the wedding. Philip had begged her to come, because he loved Catharine beyond all reason and wanted her and his soon-to-be stepson happy.

  She didn’t feel right staying at the resort any longer. Although the owner, Marcus Dallard, had refused payment for the week she’d already stayed beyond her paid reservation, she couldn’t, in good conscience, accept his generosity for another week.

  But the biggest argument weighing in favor of this move came from herself. Hannah missed Alex. She missed the physical part of their relationship, certainly. But for an entire week they had spent nearly every waking minute, and several that were not, together. She loved being with him, loved their easy conversations and occasional disagreements. With him, she felt alive.

  Soon, the wedding would be over and it would be time to fly home. She would return to her life, an ocean away from the man she loved. If she had to suffer the rest of her years without him, why not grab this happiness now, while she could?

  She wasn’t getting any younger.

  The only thing she didn’t really know was how Alex felt about, well, resuming their affair.

  The large car slowed, and Hannah had her first glimpse of the palace, tall, regal, and beautiful. Her first impression was of quartz-laden stone interspersed with dozens of gleaming windows. The one turret she could see had a flag atop it, what she’d come to recognize was the Royal Standard. Fittingly, it waved majestically in the breeze, signaling that the king was in residence.

  The flag had not flown while Alex had been a guest at the resort registered under the name of Alex Cross.

  The car slowed wh
ile the gate swung open and, much too soon, rounded the circular drive and glided to a stop under a portico.

  A uniformed man opened the door, bowed slightly, and offered a hand to assist her out. When she emerged from the car, the door at the top of the steps opened.

  She couldn’t help but smile as Alex hurried down to her.

  “I am so glad you’re here. Welcome to my home. Oh, my Hannah, I’ve missed you.”

  She felt her eyes begin to tear. “I’ve missed you, too.”

  “Come. I’ve arranged for tea. Come.”

  He offered his arm and led her up and inside. She felt him trembling. Or was it her? Once inside the doors, he stopped. Another uniformed man bowed very low.

  “Hannah, this is Justin, head of our household staff. If you need or want anything, anything at all, you have only to tell Justin and he’ll secure it for you. Won’t you, Justin?”

  “Of course, Your Majesty. Welcome, Mrs. Jones.”

  Hannah had to beat back the urge to giggle. The man had said welcome, but his sucking-lemons expression said the exact opposite.

  “That’s very kind of you, Your Majesty. Thank you, Justin.”

  Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Alex actually wince when she’d called him “Your Majesty.”

  “Justin, see to it that Mrs. Jones’s things are taken up to the Rose Suite.”

  “The Rose Suite, sire?”

  “Yes.”

  “Very well, Your Majesty.”

  Alex escorted Hannah through the grand foyer with its high-domed ceiling and priceless antiques. She leaned closer to him so she could whisper. “Is it my imagination, or is that man really unhappy that I’m here?”