The Princess's Bodyguard

“A private firm? Hmm.” The king rubbed his chin. “A firm outside of Orlantha? Yes, yes. A trusted firm with operatives who know how to keep their mouths shut.”

“I will make some discreet inquiries, sire, and have suggestions for you within the hour.” The colonel bowed.

King Leopold waved a dismissive hand. “Yes, go. Now. And hurry. We have no time to lose.” The minute the colonel bowed again and then exited the chambers, the king turned to Lord Burhardt. “Issue a statement that the princess has the flu and is confined to her quarters. Contact Dr. Latimer and instruct him to come to the palace this morning.”

Lord Burhardt bowed, clicked his heels and left. Lisa waited, praying the king would dismiss her. She needed to contact Pippin Ritter as soon as possible to tell him where the princess was and to pass along the information she’d left for him.

The king slumped down on a huge, ornate chair by the fireplace. The queen came to him, leaned over the chair and placed her hands on his shoulders.

“Please rest, my dear.” Queen Muriel patted her husband tenderly. “Adele will be found and returned home. All will be well.”

The king glanced at Lisa. “She told me that she didn’t love Dedrick. That’s what this is all about, isn’t it? Some romantic nonsense. I assured her that she would grow to care for Dedrick. The man has several sterling qualities. He’s intelligent, quick-witted, charming, and his bloodlines are pure. I refuse to believe that it’s anything more than prewedding jitters with Adele.”

Lisa remained quiet, aware that she had no right to voice an opinion. She thought Dedrick was only fairly intelligent, and he was seldom charming except when in the king’s presence. Those who knew him well were aware that he drank to excess, gambled and womanized. Hardly sterling qualities.

“Adele told me some ludicrous story about suspecting Dedrick of treason,” the king said. “She thinks he’s one of those damn Royalists who wants us to reunite with Balanchine. I told her there was no point in her fabricating lies about him.”

“Sire, what if…what if they aren’t lies?” Lisa expected an outraged cry from the king, but instead he simply stared at her as if she were speaking in an alien tongue.

“You’re dismissed,” the king said. “If you hear from Adele… Never mind. She won’t telephone the palace.”

Lisa curtsied, then fled as quickly as possible. Once securely locked in her private quarters in the princess’s wing of the palace, she used her cell phone to contact Vice Chancellor Ritter. He needed to know what had happened and that the princess would be sending and receiving messages through her friend, Dia Constantine.

Adele sipped at the pink champagne as she lounged in the drawing room of Chateau Gustel thirty kilometers outside Vienna. The house and grounds would be considered large by most people’s standards, but in comparison to the palace and royal grounds in Erembourg, the estate was rather small. But it was quite comfortable, with an adequate staff. And Yves had been utterly charming these past three days. They’d had such fun flying off to Paris yesterday for a divine shopping spree. No one had had any idea that the kooky redhead on Yves’s arm was actually the princess of Orlantha. Being incognito was proving to be amazingly exciting. But she couldn’t hide out here with Yves indefinitely. It was only a matter of time before someone discovered her whereabouts. But for now she was safe. Living outside Orlantha, there wasn’t much she could do to help Pippin and his trusted colleagues in their quest to find evidence against Dedrick. But she could buy them all some time by stopping the wedding or at least postponing it until she could show her father hard proof of Dedrick’s disloyalty.

Yves breezed into the room, a newspaper under his arm and a quirky smile on his handsome face.

“What’s wrong?” she asked. “You have a silly expression on your face.”

“We’ve been found out,” he replied.

“What?” Adele spilled a drop of champagne on her silk trousers as she rose from the settee.

Yves opened the paper and read to her, “Rumor has it that Princess Adele of Orlantha, reported to be in bed with the flu at the palace in Erembourg, is in actuality cavorting about Paris with none other than that bon vivant Yves Jurgen. Now, why would the engaged princess be traveling with a man other than her fiancé, Dedrick Vardan, Duke of Roswald?” Yves sighed dramatically. “The article goes on and on, but you get the idea. I’m afraid we’ve blown your cover, chère.”

“That means it’s only a matter of time before someone figures out I’m here in Vienna with you.”

“We can pack our bags and head out for the Riviera whenever you say. This evening. Tomorrow.”

Adele shook her head. “No, I’m afraid not. Everyone in Europe knows you. And apparently they recognize me, even in a red wig. I’m less likely to be recognized if I’m alone.”

Yves tsk-tsked. “I hate the idea of your being out there alone. What will you do if—”

“I’ll make arrangements to fly to Golnar in the morning,” Adele said. “I’ll phone Dia to let her know I’ll need sanctuary with Theo and her a little sooner than I’d planned.”

“I’ll be sad to see you leave, dear heart. You’re such an entertaining companion.” Yves popped Adele gently on the nose. “I had made plans for us to meet some trusted friends for an intimate dinner tonight, but—”

“Don’t change your plans,” she told him. “I’ll be busy packing and preparing for my trip to Golnar.”

“Are you sure you don’t mind? If you’d rather I stay here with you, I’ll be more than glad to cancel.”

“I’ll be perfectly all right here,” she told him. “At least for tonight. I doubt that anyone on my father’s staff will be able to come up with the information about this estate in the next twenty-four hours. After all, the place still belongs to your cousin Jules, doesn’t it?”

“Yes, but how did you know the chateau wasn’t mine?”

“Because, Yves, my wicked friend, we both know that you have no money of your own and depend on relatives and wealthy older ladies to support you.”

Yves clutched his chest and groaned. “I have shared too many of my secrets with you, chère.”

“And I with you.”

Grinning, Yves lifted her hand and kissed it. “Then it is good that we trust each other, is it not?”

Dedrick rolled over in bed and stretched. The loud banging on the door had awakened him from a peaceful sleep. The voluptuous creature lying next to him roused, eased out of bed, slipped on a silk robe and headed for the door.

“Ask who it is,” Dedrick told Vanda. “I can’t have anyone finding me here.”

“Don’t worry,” Vanda said, a devilish smile on her pretty face. “You can hide under the covers.”

She cracked the door a fraction and peered through the opening. Before she could stop the man, he shoved the door open wide and knocked her aside as he entered her room at Madame Pellonia’s, the most exclusive brothel in all of Orlantha.

“You fool!” the man shouted at Dedrick. “What if someone sees you here? Then the whole world will know why the princess doesn’t want to marry you.”

Dedrick rose from the bed leisurely, totally unconcerned with his friend’s outrage. “You worry too much.”

The intruder glowered at Vanda. “Leave us!”

Vanda frowned and looked to Dedrick for instructions.

He waved a dismissal. “Go. Go.”

Vanda huffed, then stomped out of the room and slammed the door behind her.

Dedrick dressed, taking his time as his friend glared at him, his arms crossed over his chest.

“We must go to the palace immediately. The king has hired an American private detective to find the princess and return her to Orlantha. You should be at King Leopold’s side, showing your support and concern. If he becomes the least bit suspicious—”

“Ah, but that’s your job, isn’t it? To waylay any suspicions.”

“Princess Adele actually told her father that she believed you were a Royalist.”

Dedrick laughed. “I’m sure dear papa didn’t believe her. Why would anyone suspect me?”

“If your wedding to the princess is canceled, we will have no choice but to eliminate her and leave the king without an heir. We prefer to take over Orlantha by peaceful means. The Balanchine army is half the size of Orlantha’s army. Once you become the prince consort, you will wield great power and can put many of our people in strategic positions within the government. And in time we will see to it that you become king of both Orlantha and Balanchine.”

“I would hate to lose the chance for a wedding night with Adele. She’s such a delicious little creature.”

“Is that all you think about?”

“I think about many things,” Dedrick said. “I think that once I am king of both Orlantha and Balanchine, you will not speak to me in such a manner.”

“Once you are king, no, I will speak to you with due respect. But until that day—” the intruder grabbed Dedrick’s lapels and glared directly into his eyes “—I am in charge. You will do as I say. Is that understood?”

Dedrick took a deep breath, clutched the other man’s hands and removed them from his coat. “I understand perfectly.”

“Good. Then go to the palace and assure King Leopold that you adore Adele and want nothing more than to be her husband.”

Dedrick grinned. “What if this American detective can’t find Adele?”

“My sources tell me that his firm is the best in the business. He will find her. It seems the princess was spotted with Yves Jurgen in Paris yesterday. This detective’s agency is tracking her down as we speak. And when he leaves Orlantha to go after her, two of our men will follow him and make sure nothing goes wrong.”

Matt’s flight landed at the Vienna International Airport Holzbauer with only a twenty-minute delay. His rental car, a four-door silver Opel Omega, was ready and waiting for him. He’d spent enough time on airplanes these past few days to rack up quite a few frequent-flyer miles. Of course, Dundee picked up the tab for his flights, since all of them were work related. Ellen Denby, Dundee’s CEO, had shot to hell his plans for a week of R&R in Paris. She’d phoned him only hours after Worth Cordell had taken a flight out of Roissy Charles de Gaulle, winging his way home to the good old U.S.A. Ellen had pointed out to Matt that he was already in Europe, only a short flight from Orlantha, so it would be foolish to send another agent to take the assignment. He’d tried to beg off. He should have known better. Ellen wasn’t the type who could be persuaded or pressured; she was the type who expected her orders to be obeyed without question.

He had to admit that, even though he really hadn’t wanted this assignment, he was curious as to why the lovely Princess Adele had flown the coop only a month before her wedding. During his interview with King Leopold, His Majesty had cited a case of premarital jitters as the reason his daughter had run away. But after sizing up the situation—and meeting the Duke of Roswald—Matt had drawn his own conclusions. Dedrick Vardan was a horse’s ass. Pompous. Arrogant. Condescending. And come to think of it, the wannabe prince looked a bit like a horse. Or maybe more like a mule. But the guy sure knew how to play the king like a fiddle. And Lord Burhardt had sent cold chills up Matt’s spine. His gut instincts warned him that the man would be dangerous if crossed. Then there was Colonel Rickard, who seemed to resent the fact that he hadn’t been put in charge of returning the princess to the fold. The king had told Matt he wanted his daughter returned to the palace, and gave him permission to use whatever means necessary to bring her home.

After taking a look at faxed photos of Yves Jurgen that Dundee had sent, along with more information on the man than Matt actually needed, it was easy to see why the princess had run away from Dedrick and straight into Yves’s waiting arms. Hell, Yves Jurgen was a damn pretty boy, and from his “rap sheet” he knew everything there was to know about women—how to please them and keep them coming back for more. Matt’s guess was that Princess Adele had run away for one last fling with her former lover before tying the knot with old mule face.

It really didn’t matter to him why the princess had run away. She was nothing more than an assignment to him. Dundee contacts in Austria had tracked Yves and her to an estate outside Vienna, so it was only a matter of time before he knocked on the door, introduced himself and told the princess that she’d been caught. He hoped she didn’t put up a fuss or that her lover didn’t do something stupid. He wanted to get this over with as soon as possible so he could return to Paris and pick up where he’d left off with a delectable blonde named Chantel.

Adele ate dinner alone at the chateau after making reservations to fly to Golnar in the morning. She had already packed, except for toiletry items, her pajamas and the outfit she’d wear tomorrow. When she’d phoned her best friend, Dia Constantine, Dia had told Adele that she and Theo would gladly provide a sanctuary for her. Dia was an old boarding school classmate who had become her best friend despite the differences in their backgrounds. Dia was the product of a marriage between a stodgy English barrister and his free-spirited Greek wife. A statuesque beauty with jet-black hair and luminescent silver eyes, Dia had captured the attention and then the heart of Greek tycoon Theo Constantine when they’d met at a party at the royal palace in Erembourg. The two had been married for eight years and had one child. Adele was Phila’s godmother and she adored the seven-year-old with a passion.

Adele would have gone straight to Golnar when she escaped from the palace, but it would have been the first place her father would have thought of when he discovered her missing. If he’d caught her en route, he would have forced her to return to Orlantha, and no government would have dared offend the king. Of course, if she made it to Golnar, he would be powerless to force her to return. Golnar, a small island nation between Greece and Cyprus, had no diplomatic ties to Orlantha, and since Theo’s wealth gave him unlimited power over local politics, the authorities would hardly allow a guest of his to be taken against her will.

No matter what, she simply had to give Pippin and his friends time to gather evidence against Dedrick. If that meant staying in Golnar for a year, then so be it.

As Adele listened to a tape of Tchaikovsky’s concertos and drank her after-dinner demitasse, she heard a ruckus at the front door.

“Please, sir, no!” the butler called out in his native German language. “Stop right now, or I shall be forced to call the police.”

“My German’s a little rusty,” a man’s voice said. “But I understand that you’re threatening to call the police. Go right ahead. Be my guest.”

Adele tensed. The doors to the drawing room swung open. A tall, black-haired man wearing faded jeans and a weathered leather bomber jacket stormed into the room, the butler on his heels. Adele’s heartbeat accelerated. Who was this stranger? Whoever he was he spoke English, not German or French.

Adele rose from the sofa and confronted the unwanted guest.

“I tried to stop him,” the butler said. “Should I call the police?”

The last thing Adele wanted to deal with was the local authorities. If she involved the police, there was no telling what tomorrow’s headlines would read. And she’d certainly be shipped home immediately once it was discovered that King Leopold expected her to return.

“No, don’t telephone the police.” She shook her head, then turned to her uninvited guest. “Who are you and what do you want?”

He stared at her, surveying her from head to toe. A shiver of uneasiness fluttered up Adele’s spine. There was something sensual about the way he looked at her with those incredible blue eyes.

“I’m Matt O’Brien, with the Dundee Security and Investigation Agency.”

Adele’s stomach tightened. “What business do you have here at Chateau Gustel? If you want to see Yves, I’m afraid he’s out for the evening. If you’ll leave your card, I’ll—”

“My business is with you, Princess.”

He knew who she was. This didn’t bode well for her. “And what business do you have with me, sir?”

“I’m here to escort you home to Orlantha.”

“I see.” So, who had hired this private investigator—her father or Dedrick? And how was she going to get herself out of this predicament? She’d been so sure that no one would find her here at the chateau, at least not for several days.

The butler cleared his throat. “Your Highness, is there anything I can do?”

“No, thank you. That will be all. I can take care of this matter.”

Once the butler left, Adele smiled warmly at Matt O’Brien. “Won’t you take a seat, Mr. O’Brien?”

“No, ma’am, thank you.”

“For whom are you working, my father or—”

“King Leopold retained the Dundee Agency, and since I was the only agent already in Europe, I drew this assignment.”

“I’m surprised that my father used an American firm. You are American, aren’t you?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“And what will you do if I choose not to return to Orlantha with you?” Show this hired henchman that you’re not afraid of him, she told herself. Let him know that taking you back to your father will not be something easily accomplished.

“I’m hoping you won’t put up a fuss.” The corners of his mouth lifted in a hint of a smile. “But my orders are to take you home, even if I have to hog-tie you, put you in a sack and toss you over my shoulder.”

Adele gasped. Apparently, this American had not been taught the proper respect for someone in her position—a princess, the heir to the throne of Orlantha. “If you lay one hand on me, you…you brute, I shall see that you’re—”

He laughed. A loud, boisterous laugh. Adele cringed. Damn insolent cretin! How dare he treat her in such a manner.

“Look, Little Miss Royal Runaway, we can do this the easy way or the hard way. It’s up to you. But you can be sure of one thing—I’m taking your highfalutin fanny home to Daddy.”

Chapter 2

M att had figured this wouldn’t be an easy job and he’d been right. He should have known she would put up a fuss. Princess Adele stared at him, her big brown eyes glaring, and her full, pink lips clenched. With a defiant stance, her hands on her hips, and an I’m-not-going-anywhere-with-you expression on her face, she seemed to be daring him. Matt rubbed his jaw and chin. He wore two days’ worth of beard stubble because he hadn’t taken time to shave since he’d been rushed to Orlantha and put on this case. She probably thought he looked rather scruffy. He thought she looked incredible. Her shiny chestnut-brown hair curled about her ears in a soft, wavy bob. A pair of shimmery diamond studs—probably three carats each—glittered in her earlobes and a thin diamond-studded watch graced her wrist. Her petite body—he guessed she stood about five-two—was nicely rounded in all the right places. An hourglass shape, with a tiny waist. The outfit she wore—red cashmere sweater and gray wool slacks—had probably been purchased on her recent shopping spree in Paris and no doubt had cost a month’s salary for the average person. Oh, yeah, she was one gorgeous woman, but she had “Spoiled Rotten” written all over her.

“The way you’re looking at me is quite insulting,” she told him with an air of snobbery.

“Excuse me, ma’am,” he replied. “I was just appreciating the scenery.”

A slight flush stained her cheeks. “Mr. O’Brien, I don’t know how much my father is paying you, but I will match his offer and raise it by…let’s say, five thousand American dollars.”

“Let me get this straight—you’re willing to pay me five thousand more than your father if I don’t take you back to Orlantha?”

“That’s correct.” The tension in her body drained away, and she relaxed a bit.

“It’s my understanding that your father holds the purse strings, that you aren’t independently wealthy.”

She huffed, then pursed her lips and glowered at Matt. “I have some capital at my disposal, certainly enough to buy you off.”

Barely able to control his amusement, Matt grinned. “Look, Ms. Reynard or Princess or whatever you prefer to be called, I work for the Dundee Agency. We’ve got rules and regulations we have to follow, and a solid reputation to uphold, not to mention the fact that I’ve got a boss who can put the fear of God into any of her agents if we even think of doing anything disreputable.”

“I take that to mean you’re refusing my offer.”

“Yes, ma’am, you can take it that way.”

“Then we seem to be at an impasse, don’t we?”

“How’s that?”

“Well, you expect me to go back to Orlantha with you, and I refuse to return to the palace tonight or anytime in the near future. Not until my father calls off the wedding.”

“Look, I can’t say that I blame you for not wanting to marry old mule face. If I were a lady, I’d sure run in the opposite direction to get away from him. But my job isn’t couples counseling. I was hired to take you back to the palace in Erembourg and that’s what I intend to do.”

Adele tensed again, her small body stiffening and her chin tilting upward slightly. She was half his size, yet even her body language challenged him. “You do not intimidate me.”

No doubt about it. She wasn’t going to make this easy for him.

“My orders are to use whatever means necessary to secure your return.”

“Use whatever means… Are you saying that my father really did give you permission to force me to come with you?”

“Yep, that’s exactly what he did. And Lord Burhardt, Colonel Rickard and your ever-loving fiancé all went right along with the order. Looks like it’s you against the world, or at least your little world in Orlantha. I’d say unless you can talk your daddy out of it, you, Princess Beauty, are going home to marry the beast.”

“You’re the beast, Mr. O’Brien!” Adele’s eyes flashed. Her nostrils flared. “I’m not leaving with you, and that’s final.” She stomped her foot.

“I should have just walked in, chloroformed you and been done with it. But no, I had to give you a chance to be reasonable. Stupid of me, I know, but that’s just the kind of guy I am.”

Matt reached out to take her arm, but she sidestepped him and began backing slowly toward the double doors behind her. “If you touch me, I’ll scream.”

“Then start screaming now because I’m going to touch you.”

Adele opened her mouth, but before she got out more than a mild screech, Matt dashed forward, grabbed her and slammed his hand over her mouth. She wriggled and squirmed, trying to free herself. He held fast.

“We’re going to march out of the chateau and straight to my car that’s parked outside,” Matt told her. “If you’re a good little girl, I won’t have to handcuff and gag you.”

Her movements became frantic as she struggled against him. When he tried to walk her out of the room, she kicked him several times. Damn, why him? Why had he been the lucky guy to draw this assignment?

“Stop that right now,” he said. “Otherwise, I’ll have to carry you out of here in a fireman’s lift.”

Somehow she managed to maneuver her mouth so that she could bite him. Ouch! He let out a yelp as her teeth chomped down into his hand. And within two seconds, her ear-splitting scream echoed through the chateau. Suddenly the butler ran into the drawing room, followed by a tall, blond man wearing evening attire.

“What is going on here?” Yves Jurgen demanded.

The butler jabbered ninety-to-nothing in German, while Adele continued struggling and calling out for help. Obviously confused, Yves glanced back and forth from the butler to Adele.

“Silence!” Yves called.

The butler hushed immediately.

With Matt’s arm around her waist, holding her body in front of his, Adele looked pleadingly at her friend. “Yves, this man is a private detective my father hired to find me and return me to Orlantha. Will you please tell him that he cannot force me to leave the chateau with him.”