Page 22 of Guarding the Princess
Ryker grins and shrugs. “You just sounded so queenly, it caught me off guard.”
“Is this another one of your jokes?”
Now he’s exasperated and I’m satisfied with my work to get under his skin.
“I keep telling you I have a sense of humor. I don’t know why you don’t believe me.”
“You have cracked two jokes in two days. If you keep it up, I just might believe you.” I grab his arm and tug him after me, heading for the stairs up to the private jet gleaming in the morning sun. “Let’s show you the family jet.”
I climb the narrow stairs first, careful to watch my step in these heels. As I reach the top, I squint my eyes until they adjust, taking in the interior of the plane, family memories flooding back as I see the familiar leather of the seats and the gleaming marble tabletops. The carpet has been replaced since I’ve been away and I begrudgingly like the new deep purple.
Spinning to show some of my favorite features to Ryker, I see his eyes darting all around the cabin taking it in. The jawline I itch to trace with my fingers grows slack the longer he looks. He gives a quick shake of his head and hooks a thumb over his shoulder, not quite looking at me.
“I better make sure our bags get on.”
I grab his arm as he spins to leave, praying he’ll look me in the eye again. Perhaps the jet is too over the top for him. I’ve seen this happen before. People think they understand what you mean when you say you’re royalty, but when they see the actual evidence of it they get intimidated.
“The staff will get it, Ryker,” I whisper.
His gaze lifts, finally tuning out our surroundings and seeing me, the same Charlotte he’s always known. His mouth quirks to the side.
“I’m just the unplanned bodyguard. They might get your bags and leave mine sitting there on the tarmac.”
The pain of how different he believes us to be hits my chest, but I don’t let on. “Is that joke number three,Stor Kille?” When he finally smiles, I lean in close so I know he hears me. “And you’re not ‘just’ the bodyguard to me and you know it.”
Settling the issue for now, I pull him down to the luxurious leather chairs and order drinks for us while the staff prepares the plane for takeoff.
Eleven hours of flight time.
Eleven hours of peaceful bliss with my new favorite person.
The calm before the storm.
10
Ryker
Eleven hours is a long time to sit and stew over whether you’ve made the right decision.
Eleven hours is way too short to soak in a lifetime of Charlotte’s undivided attention.
Logically, I know things will be changing dramatically once we land in Regora. She’ll have responsibilities and obligations. She’ll have to worry about appearances, which dictate not hanging out with the hired help. I’ll be meeting her family for the first time under stressful circumstances. We haven’t spoken about what we are to each other, though I think we can both agree there’s an attraction there that goes beyond friendship.
But right now, with Charlotte’s head resting on my shoulder while she takes a nap, I can’t focus on anything but the feel of her slender fingers entwined with mine, or the way her long eyelashes fan the tops of her cheeks. She breathes, and I’m fascinated. I’m obsessed. And not in a friend way.
“So stupid, Duke,” I mutter under my breath. Falling for a princess? Way to set yourself up for epic failure. Which is ironic because not failing used to be my obsession. It’s why I put my job above all else. Why I didn’t see my family as much as I should. And yet here I am, purposely running toward failure all because Charlotte stands at the end of the road with that smile and those eyes.
The plane touches down on the runway and I look out the window to see mountains all around us dusted with white snow. The flight attendant informed us it would be five in the morning local time when we arrived. The sun is just barely up, casting the whole landscape in a soft yellow hue.
“Sweetheart, we’re here.” I kiss the top of Charlotte’s head, waking her up and enjoying the way she blinks repeatedly before she lifts her head.
“Wow, that was fast,” she says while covering her mouth with a yawn.
The plane comes to a quick stop and the flight attendant jumps up to help collect our belongings and hand Charlotte a wool jacket. No jacket magically appears for me, which is fine because I brought my own, but it’s another reminder, here in Regora, I’m the bodyguard and nothing else.
The flight attendant opens the door the second Charlotte ties the jacket knot around her waist. I move in front of Charlotte, which doesn’t feel gentlemanly, but I can’t forget my priority is her safety. Icy wind whips me in the face and I’m reminded again we aren’t in sunny California anymore. I swivel my head to take in the few people waiting below on the tarmac. No one looks dangerous, but since I don’t know any faces here, I’ll stay on high alert. After I go down the stairs, I stand to the side and wait for Charlotte to descend.
“Father!” She leaps off the last stair into the arms of a gray-haired man in a long coat and slacks.
