Page 1 of His Forever Princess

ChapterOne

Once a Navy SEAL, always a SEAL.

But Gideon Hale wasn’t a young and foolhardy warrior anymore.

It was early summer, but an inch of snow had covered the road through the Rocky Mountains of Colorado—a road that was more of a track than anything else.

The remote cabin stood empty and had been for months, judging by the dust covering every surface.

It didn't matter if there was an inch of dust accumulated on the countertops. That it was cold outside and getting colder. There was no room for him to be complacent, not when the princess had nearly been killed.

His wife.

His wife had nearly been killed.

He held a 9mm at the ready as he moved on stealthy feet across the cabin. It belonged to an old friend and there wasn't much to it. Not many places to hide. Maybe the curtained-off lower shelf beneath the minuscule kitchen counters. Gideon swept it aside with his foot. Empty.

He heard a soft sigh behind him as he bypassed the bed and headed for the only other door in the place. A bathroom? He nudged open the door, 9mm pointed ahead of him. Careful.

Alessandra's next sigh carried a hint of impatience. Or maybe exasperation.

He didn't stop. Couldn't. His need to keep her safe was primal.

It was also the only thing holding back the fury pounding through his veins.

He swept aside the shower curtain. For one microsecond, the motion cast a shadow on the wall. He almost pulled the trigger.

But good sense prevailed.

He turned back to the room. "Clear."

Alessandra, in her charcoal sweater over dark-colored jeans, ignored him. He'd insisted she wear a hat to cover her golden hair, but she'd taken it off sometime in the last hours driving the empty mountain roads. Now she stared out the bank of floor-to-ceiling windows.

Neither one of them had slept in almost forty-eight hours, but he wouldn't have guessed it by looking at her. She looked as regal as ever. Perfect posture, every strand of hair in place, a hint of disdain in the slight frown she wore. Disdain for their accommodations? Or because she was stuck here with him?

He didn't let the thought land. Couldn't afford the distraction.

Yet he couldn't stop his memory from shifting to provide him a glimpse of Alessandra when he'd first met her. She'd been on the run then, too. Not dressed for the weather, pale and terrified. And beautiful.

He blinked away the memory that felt like a punch.

He secured his gun into the holster at his hip and crossed to the windows, where he began lowering the blinds.

Alessandra shifted. He didn't hold out hope that she would argue with him. It had been the silent treatment ever since they'd left the Triple H’s ranch house. She'd argued then, on a video call with her sister, the Queen, and a security team from the palace in Glorvaird.

Gideon and Alessandra’s sister Eloise rarely got along, but this time Eloise had agreed with his plan. Which meant Gideon had overridden Alessandra’s protests about this plan. Twice.

She’d iced him out since.

When he reached above his head to pull the cord for the upper blind, the bullet-wound in his side screamed against the movement.

He ignored the pain.

These windows were a direct invitation for a sniper to take an easy shot.

"You can wash up, if you'd like,” he told her.

He didn't look over to see whether or not Alessandra moved. They'd only stopped when the SUV had needed gas. And each time Gideon had followed her to the bathroom. It hadn't been a trip fit for a princess. But he didn't care. This was the only way to keep her safe.

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