Page 30 of Royal Guard

It made no sense. I was meant to be soft and graceful and refined and I’d always assumed that the man I’d fall for, when it happened, would be similar: I imagined him slender and quick, a man who wore an immaculate suit and knew how to dance. But my soul-deep yearning was for the exact opposite: for thick, sculpted forearms that crushed me to a hard chest, for a stubbled chin that rested against the top of my head, for thighs and ass that were all about brute power. I was soft but I wanted grit. I was pure, but I wanted—I flushed—to be pinned and spread by that muscled body.

I pressed my thighs hard together looked away. But as soon as my eyes left him, I could feel his eyes on me. Gliding down over my cheek, my neck. Over the thin cotton vest top I’d stripped down to, caressing my bare shoulders, smoothing over my breasts as if with big, warm palms. I actually felt my nipples pucker and tighten. Being this close was torture.

I forced myself to focus on the landscape. He wasright: the sunsets herewereamazing. The sinking sun turned the clouds from gold to amber to deep, boiling red, until it looked as if the sky was lit by glowing coals. Just then, I saw my first enormous herd of cattle in the distance, and got my first glimpse of cowboys on horses herding them, just tiny silhouettes against the glow of the sun. I drew in my breath and watched, transfixed. I tried to imagine their lives: riding under that massive sky, the quiet around them, the solitude. Compared to the bustle of the palace and the city—“They look so... free,” I breathed. Then I blushed. “That probably sounds really stupid.”

I heard the jingle of his dog tags as he shook his head. That deep rumble, gentle and sincere. “Nope. Don’t sound stupid at all.”

When we turned off the highway, I felt his mood start to change. Those powerful shoulders rose with tension and his whole body hunched over the steering wheel. What was it about this place that freaked him out? Wasn’t this his home?

We turned into a long driveway, rounded a corner screened by trees and suddenly screeched to a stop. Everyoneoofed against their seatbelts. The hood of the pickup was an inch from a closed gate.

Garrett got out, opened the gate and climbed back in. “Sorry,” he muttered as we drove through. “That wasn’t there, last time I was here.”

“How long has it been?” I asked.

He was silent for a moment. “Two years.”

A farmhouse came into view ahead, old but still beautiful, with walls the color of buttermilk and an eggshell-blue roof. A man was walking towards us across the grass, thick curls of white hair visible under his Stetson. At first, he wore a frown. Then, as he sawGarrett, his eyes widened.

Garrett pulled up and switched off the engine. The sudden silence was deafening. He climbed out and walked slowly towards the older man.

I leaned forward, entranced. The man was just as tall as Garrett, his body loaded with muscle despite his age, and he still had that ramrod-straight, military posture. He had the same heavy jaw and hard cheekbones as his son, but his skin was weathered by a life outdoors and crinkled by smile lines.I’m getting a look at what Garrett will look like, when we grow old together.And it was good.

Then I realized what I was thinking and crushed those thoughts down inside.Stupid!My only future was back in Lakovia. I’d be back there within days... or I wouldn’t live that long.

As the two men drew closer, Garrett walked slower and slower, almost trailing the toes of his boots on the ground like a reluctant child. That fear had reached its peak:thisis what he was scared of.

“Hi Dad,” he grunted.

20

GARRETT

It got harderto move forward the closer we got. Two years of shame and guilt heaved me back.Just get in the pickup and go!

But if I did that, she was dead.

I lifted a boot that felt like it weighed a million pounds. Took a hesitant step towards him. But I couldn’t take another. There was so much on that craggy face: shock and sadness and hope and pity.I don’t want your pity.

And then I didn’t need to walk any further becausehetook two big steps forward and crushed me in a hug. Being hugged by my dad is like being grappled by a bear, big and warm and strong and you ain’t getting out of it. I took a deep, shaky sigh, closed my eyes and relaxed into it. And for a moment, at least, everything was okay.

When he finally decided to let me go, I looked towards the car. The Princess quickly jumped out, followed by everyone else. “This is Princess Kristina ofLakovia,” I told him. “And her maid and her guards. We need your help.”

Dad looked me in the eye just once to check I wasn’t yanking his chain. I gave him a solemn nod.

“Well, I’ll be,” muttered dad. And then he turned to the Princess and, despite being a Jarhead, ground-pounding hayseed himself, he whipped off his hat and did a very good approximation of a bow.

Dad still ran the place with the same military discipline and attention to detail he had when I was a kid. Probably what had kept him going since mom died. He got the others settled in the living room and then took me into the hallway so we could talk.

“Always figured you’d show up one day with a girl,” he said. “Never figured it’d be a princess.”

“It’s not like that.” I felt my neck go hot. “I’m just protecting her until I can get her home.” And I filled him in on everything: the plane, the highway, the motel, Silvas Lukin and his special ops team. “I’m way out of my depth here. This is some sort of conspiracy. I’m just a grunt.”

“Grunts are the ones who win the war,” said Dad. “Always have been.” He took me over to the gun locker, unlocked it and swung the doors wide. “How much trouble you figure we’re in?”

I gazed at the wide array of guns and then took out an assault rifle, just like the one I’d used in the marines.

Dad stared at me. “That much, huh?” He took a pump-action shotgun for himself.

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