Page 31 of Forty Days and One Knight
Darius sighed loudly. He should have expected their reaction, but then again, how many men from Tennessee called their family to say they were marrying into royalty. Not many at all. “I’m telling you the truth. You can Google her. The palace will be announcing the engagement in a few days, so I wanted to give you both a heads up. I’ve got my computer geek trying to lay some groundwork to keep the media vultures away from Dad, but I don’t know if we’ll be able to prevent anyone from making the connection. As soon as the news is released, it won’t be long before it’s all over town. Someone will see dollar signs and contact the press with info on me and my family.”
“You’re fucking serious, aren’t you?” Levi asked, the disbelief in his tone had been cut in half.
“Yeah, I am. I’ve been on her security detail a few times, and we kind of hit it off.”
Barrie finally found her voice again. “You reallyareserious. Holy shit! Does this mean you’re going to be a prince? Will we have to bow or curtsey or something when we see you? Oh my God! Are we going to meet a king or queen? I’ll have to go shopping! What should I wear when I meet them? Oh, and where will the wedding be? In ... what’s the name of her country again?”
When his sister finally took a deep breath, Darius did his best to answer all her questions. Ten minutes later, he finally disconnected the call, only to have the phone ring almost immediately. Seeing it was Cain Foster, he swiped the screen. “Knight.”
“We’ve got company—three media vans just pulled up. One of them is CNN and another is the BBC.”
“What? The press release hasn’t gone out yet. What the hell do they want?” From his pocket, he pulled out a comm unit that was connected to both the TS team and the royal guards and stuck it into his ear. He could listen in on everyone doing their jobs.
“I don’t know, but we’re going to need a little backup. There are more coming.” Foster must have opened the door to the vehicle he and Morrison had been sitting in outside the front gate because Darius suddenly heard a bunch of people shouting questions. “This is just the tip of the iceberg, brother.”
Darius looked up as Jabari Bastide, the new head of Tahira’s detail, stuck his head into the library. “Where is Her Royal Highness? The press is at the gate.”
Disconnecting the call, Darius strode toward the doorway. “I know. She was talking to her mother on the phone in the office a little while ago. I’m not sure where she went from there. If you want to handle things out there, I’ll look for Tahira and keep her inside.”
If the man took offense to Darius speaking so informally about the princess, he didn’t show it. Darius was going to have to remember when a situation called for him to refer to her as Her Royal Highness or, at least, Princess Tahira. In such a short time, he’d gotten used to just calling her by her given name.
“No, my men have already joined your teammates. Princess Tahira is my responsibility, and I just checked the office—she’s not there.”
A flash of sadness and guilt appeared in the man’s dark eyes, and Darius felt bad for him. The reason he’d been promoted was because his two teammates and friends had been murdered protecting their charge, while Bastide had been sleeping on the cruise ship. He took his new position even more seriously than his old one and would lay down his life for the princess, of that Darius was sure. As bratty as she used to be, over the past few years, as she’d matured, Tahira had won the respect and loyalty of her guards. She now knew about their family members and inquired about them often, which made the men like her even more.
“Okay. If you want to check upstairs, I’ll see if she’s still down here somewhere.” With twenty-nine rooms in the three-level, main house, it would take a few moments to find her. Darius hoped she hadn’t gone outside. He didn’t think she was in any danger, but he still wanted to make sure she was safely out of view from any telescopic camera lenses.
Bastide nodded, then turned on his heel and hurried toward the foyer to take the stairs. Darius double checked the office on his way past it and found it empty. So were several other rooms. Finally, he found her in the kitchen, reading a fashion magazine and drinking a cup of tea. Tension he hadn’t realized had crept into his neck and shoulders released at the sight of her. “There you are.”
Startled, she looked up at him. “Darius.” Her mouth turned downward as she studied his face. “What is wrong?”
“Nothing for you to worry about. Hang on.” He tapped his earpiece. “Bastide, Her Royal Highness is safe in the kitchen.”
“I’m on my way.”
“Safe? Darius, what—”
Tahira’s started to stand, fear blazing in her eyes, and he held up a hand, trying to calm her. “It’s okay, Tahira. The press just showed up at the gate. Apparently, word got out about our engagement.”
Her mouth gaped. “B-but Sebak was not supposed to release the statement until the day after tomorrow.”
Stepping over to her, Darius pulled her into his arms. She was shivering, and he doubted it was because she was cold. “I’m not sure what’s going on and why they’re here, but you’re safe, Princess. I won’t let anything happen to you. The press won’t get anywhere close to you.”
Behind him, he heard Bastide enter the room, but Darius didn’t release Tahira. He didn’t know why, but he suddenly didn’t want to entrust her safety to anyone else. Bastide had asserted she was his responsibility, but ever since that relatively chaste kiss they’d shared, Darius wanted to claim Tahira as his in a completely different way. One word seemed to resonate through his mind—mine.
25
Tahira paced back and forth in front of the windows overlooking the Tampa Riverwalk, with her arms clasped around her torso. Dr. Trudy Dunbar’s office had a gorgeous view that unfortunately didn’t alleviate the nervousness rolling around in Tahira’s gut. Taking a deep breath, she turned to face the psychologist who was sitting in a chair next to a couch. This was the moment she’d feared—talking to someone other than Darius about her assault. Patient/doctor confidentiality made it a little easier—Dunbar could lose her license if she repeated anything they discussed behind closed doors. Ian and Darius also trusted her, which helped Tahira trust her as well.
She’d been appalled and embarrassed when Darius had told her Ian had figured things out, but then the head of Trident Security had stopped by to let her know her secret was safe with him—he wouldn’t even tell his wife. Ian had become like a big brother to Tahira, and from their private conversation, she knew he didn’t think any less of her for what had happened. In fact, she was certain if her rapist was still alive, he would suffer a long, torturous death at the hands of the retired Navy SEAL. Ian had ensured her that any help she needed to get past the rape, he and Darius would make sure she got it.
After leaving the estate two hours ago, Darius’s teammates and Tahira’s guards had played an intricate game of cat and mouse with the press. They’d driven all around Tampa, leading a parade of vans with satellite dishes on the roofs, and changed vehicles twice, while Lindsey wore a wig, impersonating the royal princess. Tahira had donned her own wig—one with short, medium-brown hair, makeup to cover the bruises on her face, and large sunglasses. Once the coast had been clear, she and Darius had slipped out the back of the house, hurried to the estate’s dock on the bay, and boarded a boat Tristan McCabe had waiting for them. The man ferried them across the bay where an SUV was parked for them. With all the subterfuge, the press had no idea Tahira was now talking to her new psychologist, and she was grateful.
“I was raped.” There ... she’d said it, and in doing so, it made it all too real. Tahira covered her face with her hands for a moment. Her heart pounded in her chest, and she gulped several times, trying to fill her lungs with oxygen. She blinked back a few tears, then circled around the desk and took a seat on the couch.
“Take a deep breath, Tahira. That’s it. One more.” Dr. Dunbar’s voice was soothing, filled with empathy and understanding. Once Tahira’s shoulders relaxed, the doctor continued. “I can only imagine how you must have felt. Your presence here means that you want to move forward. I’ll be here to help you get through this, and we’ll take it one step at a time. When you’re ready, please tell me what you remembered.”
Tahira was glad she felt comfortable enough with the other woman to talk to her. She couldn’t keep it all inside. She’d been raped, and even if she was afraid of it becoming public knowledge, she wouldn’t downplay what had happened to her with the people trying to help her. “I—I do not remember as much when I am awake—I was drugged at the time—but when I am asleep, the nightmares come. I see and feel bits and pieces, but my body’s response to them is what I fear.”
