Page 18 of Royal Guard

Before anyone could stop me, I’d climbed into the passenger seat.Oh, wow!This was even better. It even smelled different to a limo. They smelled of chemicals and plastic. This smelled of wet earth andfreshly-chopped wood. When I slammed my door, it wentclank,metal on metal, not the dullwhumpof an expensive car. I couldn’t help it: I grinned.

Garrett climbed into the driver’s seat. Straight away, he looked more comfortable than he had in the expensive SUV. When he saw my grin, his heavy brow knitted. “What?”

I flushed.A princess is meant to be reserved,I could hear my mother saying.Not excitable like a child. “Nothing,” I muttered. “I’ve just never been in a pickup before. And I’ve never sat up front before.”

He nodded in understanding. “Except to drive.”

I flushed even deeper.

He blinked. “You don’t...drive?”

Emerik and the others were climbing into the back seat. “A princess isalwayschauffeured,” he said. He looked disapprovingly at how close we were sitting.

“My mother learned,” I said. “In fact, she used to race cars when she was young, before she met my father. But I never did.” Hot embarrassment flooded my face.The pampered princess who doesn’t know how to do anything.“You must think I’m so stupid,” I muttered. I stared hard out of the side window.

“No.” Garrett’s voice was both gentle and firm. I slowly turned to look at him. “I don’t think that,” he told me. “Not for a second.”

I swallowed. Those gorgeous, clear blue eyes were suddenly all that existed in the world. And then my eyes were drawn inexorably down. That hard upper lip. That full, soft lower one. I drew in a breath and it was tight and shaky. And then we were leaning in towards each other, a fraction of an inch at a time….

“Perhaps we should get going, Mr. Buchanan,” said Emerik from the back seat.

I jerked back.Stupid! What are you doing?And did Emerikknow?Was I that obvious?Of course you are, you’re behaving like a love-sick child!

I scooched a little further away from Garrett, and stiffly reached for my seat belt. Then I folded my hands demurely in my lap and nodded, and Garrett started the engine. It wasn’t until we turned back onto the highway that I risked a look at him. And then only a quick look, barely a glance, just enough to take in that rugged jaw, his blue eyes so serious, so determined, the tan bulges of his shoulders and biceps, revealed by his ripped-off shirt sleeves—

I realized I was staring again and forced myself to look away.

And we roared off down the highway.

11

GARRETT

I headed east,out of Los Angeles and then out of California. I didn’t have a firm destination in mind, just wanted to get her as far from the assassins as possible. We needed to belost.

Driving’s a lot like marching: just point your nose in the right direction, turn off your brain andgo:perfect for a dumb grunt like me. It figured that the Princess had never learned. She had a hell of a lot more to offer the world. But staring at that white line gave me plenty of time to think.

Why the hell did I do this?The assassins were well trained, well armed and they had satellite surveillance and God knows what other help. And we were just three guys: one past retirement age, one barely old enough to be out of training andme:thrown out of the Marines, can’t even hold down a job and a goddamn liability if I had another flashback.

My knuckles turned white on the steering wheel as it all surged up inside me. Rage first, at whathappened, at the system I used to be so loyal to, at the whole goddamn world for not giving a rat’s ass. Guilt, for what I’d done. And hot, biting shame that I’d let it mess me up. What good is a soldier who can just freeze at any time?

People say you need to let stuff out, but that means remembering and it’s just too much damn pain. I’m not facing the memories again, not for anyone.

Besides, I couldn’t talk about it even if I wanted to: I get so mad at myself, when I think about it, everything just slams closed and I can’t speak. I don’t want a belly full of pills. The only thing that ever calmed me worth a damn was being around horses and it’s been a long time since I had the chance to do that.

So I did what I always did: I wrestled all that pain and hurt back down. I buried the memories of sand and screams. And when I could breathe again, I took a look at the Princess.

And immediately, I knew the answer to my question.Why the hell did I do this?

Because someone had to.

Because letting her be harmed...that wasn’t an option.

The Princess had changed into...a power suit, I guess you’d call it. It was pure white, all hard lines and sharp angles, but the fabric looked as soft as freshly-fallen snow.

If an angel had needed a suit for a meeting with Beelzebub to thrash out the rules for heaven and hell,that’swhat she would have worn.

Not many people could have carried it off but on the Princess, it looked right. It was as if she was made from different stuff from the rest of us. We weregetting close to Arizona, now, the dusty scrubland giving way to barren red rock cooking under a fierce sun. The battered pickup fit there. Hell,Ifit there. But the Princess looked as if she’d stepped down off one of the fluffy white clouds that dotted the huge, blue sky. She was breathtaking.

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