Page 43 of Trained Royal
“I don’t know. I wasn’t paying attention.”
As it turned out, Freddie, Damon and Christian weren’t present because they were working at the club, but everyone else was. Oscar had come with George and his partners instead of being left at home while Christian worked.
“I’ll leave you in capable hands,” Kieren said when Patrick settled onto the sofa.
“Nuh-uh,” Patrick said. He tapped the seat next to him with his good hand. “I promised you a comedy, and you’ll get a comedy. Sit your ass down, Kieren.”
Henry grinned at him. “Better do as he says. Even with a bad arm—which, by the way, what the hell!—he could give you grief.”
Kieren exhaled and sat beside him, feeling mightily uneasy around that many royals and partners when he was the only bodyguard present. The others’ guards would be around somewhere but not in the room with them all.
“I really should—”
“No.” Patrick’s tone brooked no argument, and Kieren settled in, breathing deeply through his nose.
“Paddy, what happened?” Henry asked, nodding at his arm.
Patrick sighed. “I guess I have something to explain.” He told them about the training sessions he’d started earlier that year and how he’d pushed Kieren into a corner to make him do it, then about the accident. “It was an accident. I fell wrong, that’s all. But it means I’m down an arm for a bit.”
“Well, if you need anything, you only need to call,” Timothy said, sliding his arm around Eddie’s shoulders.
“Thanks.”
Henry’s face was troubled, many questions running around in his head—his face was very readable, which Kieren found curious in a royal who usually wanted everything to stay hidden.
“Why do you need to learn to fight, Paddy?” Henry asked.
Patrick was quiet for a while, staring down at his hands. “I thought if I could learn something like that, I might be of use in an emergency. It might save someone who might otherwise have died,” he murmured.
Silence descended, and Robert wrapped his arm around Henry’s shoulders. Timothy and Eddie did the same for George, and Mav followed suit with Douglas and held Oscar’s hand. The grief was palpable, and it took every bit of training for Kieren to sit still and not run from their pain.
“Life is poop sometimes.” The words were spoken in a harsh tone but with such a small voice that it took Kieren a minute to realise it had come from Oscar.
“True, Ozzie,” Robert said, reaching across to him. “So true.”
Ozzie was Oscar’s name when he was close to being little. Christian was his Daddy, but occasionally, Oscar regressed almost by accident. Robert had the most experience of being what Oscar needed when Christian wasn’t there, with Henry being his pup, but Douglas and George—and he supposed Patrick, as well—all had training. No matter where Oscar, or Ozzie, was, someone could take care of him. Patrick had told him it had recently started happening, but they couldn’t understand why. It wasn’t a problem, but it was strange.
“You don’t need to physically fight, Paddy,” Douglas said. “We all do our bit behind the scenes. We don’t need to be on the front line.”
“But aren’t we?” Patrick said. “We’re the enemy they’re attacking. We’re the ones they’re aiming for. We shouldn’t put other people in front of us to save ourselves from it.”
“That’s our job,” Kieren said.
Patrick stared at him, his jaw working. “It’s not fair.”
“It’s what we’re paid for.”
Patrick averted his gaze. “Choose a comedy, George. We need to lighten the mood.”
“American Pie?” George said with raised eyebrows.
Patrick frowned. “I said a comedy, not teen humour.”
George huffed. “Fine.Deadpoolit is.”
Kieren had to admit he had a good time. When the film finally finished, he bid goodnight to everyone after making sure Patrick had everything he needed. As he walked down the hall, he paused and turned back at his name.
Patrick strode towards him, and Kieren tilted his head in question. Patrick didn’t stop, though. He came right up to him, slid his good hand behind Kieren’s head and slammed their mouths together. Careful of Patrick’s wrist, Kieren slipped his arms around his waist and clung on, devouring every inch of Patrick’s mouth. They had hardly touched since last Friday, and Kieren had missed it. Now, all the tension left his body, and he gave everything he was to the man before him. There was no hiding what he wanted. No pretending this wasn’t going to happen. It was, but for how long was the issue. Kieren couldn’t risk breaking Patrick’s heart—or even worse, cursing him to death, but he could take these stolen moments for as long as he could stand it, then he would step back and let someone else take over the job of protecting him. As it was, Kieren was too close, and it scared him he couldn’t do the job properly.
