Page 1 of Keep Her from Them

Chapter 1

Raphael

If ever a building represented my relationship with a woman, it was this one. The royal palace sat back from the busy London street with armed guards at the gold-tipped gates. Tourists peered through high fences, their cameras capturing every moment.

Somewhere in the pale stone building, a princess waited.

Hostile, defensive, and out of reach to me.

Alexandra was cousin to King Philip and the prettiest lass who ever existed. Also my latest subject as a bodyguard, temporarily, at least. Ever since getting this assignment, I’d thought about her, wondering about her life and whether she remembered me.

Back at university when we’d met, I’d acted to protect her in a way that hadn’t exactly pleased her. In fact, I’d caused Her Royal Highness no end of embarrassment.

Aye, she wasn’t going to be happy to see me at all.

My taxi from the airport stopped, and I shouldered my sports bag and exited to the warm summer afternoon. By force of habit, I was early, and not due to meet with the team manager for another hour to get my briefing ahead of an evening of work.

Through the throng of sightseers, I approached the main gate and held up my ID to the armed officer.

“Raphael Gordonson, reporting for duty. I’m due to meet Barrington Bray.”

The woman took my ID, ran her gaze up and down me, then spoke into her comms. To my right, one of the tourists aimed their camera my way. I flinched and turned, a long-held automatic response to having my picture taken.

“Received and understood.” Whatever the armed guard heard confirmed my case, and she returned my ID and unlocked the gate. “Walk directly to the archway. Someone will meet you.”

On royal grounds, I crossed the wide-open frontage until I reached the towering building. I’d seen Ossington Palace any number of times on TV, for the king’s lavish ceremonies or when they marched troops outside, but never visited.

Through the archway, a beefy Guardsman toting another deadly weapon queried my presence then had me follow him around the building and into a side entrance. He left me at a staff desk where another guard searched me and swabbed my shoes, then an administrator photographed me and made an ID for me. No one spoke more than they needed to. Not unfriendly, but with a quiet efficiency I appreciated.

I was taken to an office. Behind the closed door, a man spoke loudly on the phone, his tone haughty and posh. My escort rapped a knuckle on the glass then ushered me inside, closing me in.

The man, Barrington, I presumed, waved an arm in exasperation then slammed the door of an inner room,continuing his call in private. I set down my bag and took in my surroundings.

This part of the palace was very different from the glamorous exterior. The offices looked like they were from the fifties and hadn’t been refitted since. A rotary telephone with a curly cable perched on a desk. Paperwork teetered in a wire tray. A frame on the wall held rows of identical black radios, old-fashioned models but still the most modern piece of technology in my eyeline.

In the other room, the shouting ceased. I stood taller, waiting to be admitted.

I was here as a favour for a week maximum. Ben, my boss, had lent me out to another firm who held the private security contract for members of the royal family for when they weren’t covered by the police. Barrington ran the team I was joining, and though I’d never met the man, I wanted to make a good impression.

Yet as I waited, I found myself thinking less about the job and more about the person I’d be guarding.

At twenty-three, the princess was the same age as me and often in the headlines. I never went looking for her but couldn’t avoid occasionally seeing her latest scandal. On the short flight down to England, I’d read through articles with pictures of her stumbling out of nightclubs and laughing in the backs of limos. There were rumours of lovers, drunken nights, and even drug use. She had a reputation as a party girl, no matter how smart and formal she appeared when standing next to her older cousin, the regent of our realm.

She’d picked up the nickname Sexy Lexi in the tabloids.

It was a step on from the girl I’d known.

In my normal career, I protected Leo Banks, world-famous rock star and a good friend. I’d wanted to join his team, based in an aircraft hangar on the same Scottish estate where I lived, foras long as I’d known about it, and had signed up the minute I’d passed my helicopter training.

Would Alexandra be impressed that I could fly?

Would I even get the chance to show her?

I didn’t want to examine too closely why I was obsessing over that.

The door flew open, and the man stomped out, his tie askew around his thick neck as if he’d yanked it loose. His cheeks glowed with the heat of anger. “You’re early.”

“Mr Bray. Glad to be here. I’m Raphael Gordonson.” I offered out a hand.

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