The Christmas Princess (11 page)

No, that was part of the job. Hers and his. He didn’t damn her for that.

It was what she’d said in the hotel hallway. Now she had him thinking about touching April.

Not that kind of touching. Not his hands on her body, stroking the heat of those legs, all the way up to—

No, dammit, he wouldn’t. All he’d done was take her arm to guide her. Into the car, a building, a doorway. He wasn’t going to stop doing that. It was security protocol. There was nothing in the touch. Simply making sure she got where she needed to be. That all.

And that’s all it would have stayed if Sharon hadn’t started playing with his head.

Packing took far more time than April expected.

First, there were all the Christmas things from the storage unit that had to go back in their boxes and bags.

Plus, she hadn’t realized how much she’d spread out in the suite in a little over a week.

Derek helped, especially gathering the papers and photographs that had been her study materials. He also reached up to hand her decorations that had been placed high up.

And he answered the door.

Somehow, hotel employees had heard they’d be departing and one by one they came up to say good-bye, give her a hug, and give Rufus going-away treats. Judging from their relaxed smiles when the door opened, they also seemed to know Hunter wasn’t here.

Which made it impossible to ask him how he had never mentioned that he was a native of Bariavak.

And that might be a good thing, because as the night went on, she thought that not asking might be better. At least for now.

When the last of the hotel staff visitors left it was late, and she still had all the bedroom to deal with. She closed the door behind her so the light wouldn’t disturb Derek if he stretched out on the couch the way she’d suggested, and started in.

She was leaving with the same amount of clothing as she’d arrived, but somehow it wasn’t fitting back into the suitcases. It was as if all her possessions had fluffed themselves up like Great-Grandma Beatrice’s down comforters released from the bondage of summer storage.

Great-Grandma Beatrice
.
Leslie
.
Grady
. All the rest. She missed them. She wanted to sit with Grady. To feel his acceptance, as always. She wanted to talk to Leslie. To hear her calm, southern-tinged voice dispensing soothing wisdom.

But she couldn’t. She had to use her best judgment and move ahead. Reese had been a mistake, but Gerard Liggett hadn’t worked out so badly.

This would work out, too.

If she could just get this suitcase closed. She pressed the top down with one hand, and advanced the zipper bit by bit with the other.

There. Closed.

Now, on to the next one.

Until she finally could fall into bed, by then so tired that she’d had hardly a second to think about where she would be sleeping tomorrow night. Or about how strange it was to not have Hunter on the couch outside her bedroom.

King Jozef came into the main back entryway at the height of the chaos. April hoped he was good at unsnarling knots.

Because there were too many people, too many suitcases, too many bags, and a substantial dog crate all jammed into a restricted area where four hallways and two staircases converged.

On top of that, Madame was giving what sounded like orders to the man who appeared to be a driver, which apparently involved him picking up things and heading through the obstacle course with them. But one of the bags held Rufus’ treats, and the dog expressed his displeasure with piercing and repeated barks.

“No, please. Don’t take that. Don’t take anything yet,” April said.

“The bags shall be taken to your rooms,” Madame said. She waved at the driver and he started off again.

“But some things should stay down here, like Rufus’ food.”

“A moment, Rupert,” King Jozef said. “April has a point.”

Madame drew herself up. “That animal will not stay here. Or in the kitchen.”

“He’ll sleep in my room, so the crate can go up.” April frowned. “But he can be a messy eater, so I wouldn’t think you’d want him to eat in a bedroom.”

Madame glared. Sharon’s expression went impassive. King Jozef rubbed a hand across his mouth, which didn’t hide his amusement.

Hunter stepped in. “Rupert and I’ll take a load up of things you know are going up. That will leave more room, and you can decide about the rest.”

“Rupert shall carry everything,” Madame said.

“I need to see the set-up for security,” Hunter said. “Might as well carry things with me as I go.”

The king nodded.

“The periwinkle room,” Madame said.

The two men picked up suitcases and headed up the back staircase, with Rupert leading the way.

The King of Bariavak extended a hand toward Rufus. “What breed of dog is this?”

“A mutt.” April saw a flicker of confusion and added, “A mixed breed. No one knows which ones. His name is Rufus.”

“Hello, Rufus.”

The dog sniffed cautiously. He advanced nearer, and the king scratched behind his ears.

April felt as if she’d expelled about a dozen breaths all in one. “You like dogs.”

“I do.”

“He’s a good dog and I’ll do my very best to see that he doesn’t disturb you, but—”

“No matter. We will be in the greatest informality for this time. I have already discussed with Madame Sabdoka that meals will be simple and of a family style. No ceremony or protocol.”

That, clearly, did not please Madame.

Perhaps to divert attention from that disapproval, the king said, “I confess to curiosity for what these boxes and bags contain.”

“Mostly Christmas decorations. A few things I’ve gathered over the years, a few things from my childhood.”

“Indeed. I should particularly like to see those items from your childhood.”

She looked up, knowing they treaded closer to the dangerous territory of her birth, but she smiled into his sad eyes. “I would like to show you and to share them with you.”

“The embassy decorations are under contract,” Madame said.

Her brisk tone broke the moment’s connection.

King Jozef said as the two men came down the stairs, “I’m sure we can arrange something once April is settled. In the meantime, Madame you will find a place for these decorations, as well as Rufus’ accoutrements.”

“The crate should go where I’ll sleep, also this tote.”

Madame nodded at Rupert. He headed back upstairs with a second load.

“I must close myself up in the office shortly for a remote meeting with members of my government who are in Bariavak. But I hope you will join me for tea at four. How will you entertain yourself in the meantime?”

“I want to take Rufus for a walk to, uh, avoid accidents. Then I’ll go up and unpack.”

“I shall unpack your cases,” Madame said.

“Oh, no. I can—”

“I unpack your cases,” she repeated, her accent stronger and her tone implacable.

“That is the way it is done,” King Jozef said.

April’s eyes met Sharon’s. She got the message: This was not a battle worth waging. “Thank you.”

Madame inclined her head and started across the room. At the stairs she turned back and declared, “I shall not, however, tend to that animal.”

“No, of course not. Rufus is my dog, and my responsibility.” She had to pitch her voice louder, because Madame was ascending the stairs. “I’ll feed him and take him for walks—”

“With escort,” Hunter said.

“I don’t need an escort.”

“You’re getting one. Any time you leave the grounds.”

Suddenly aware of the king’s scrutiny, she faced him. His expression was neutral, yet she had the notion he’d just finished smiling

“I am to my office now.” He nodded to both of them.

That left Hunter, Sharon and her in the entryway.

“I should put these somewhere, so they’re out of the way,” she said, gesturing toward the boxes and bags.

“Not unless you want Madame on your case,” Sharon said.

She clicked her tongue. “That’s embarrassing, isn’t it?”

“What?”

“Having someone unpack your suitcases. Especially someone like Madame.” She turned to Hunter. “I bet you won’t like it one bit.”

He said nothing.

“Wait a minute — you’re saying she won’t unpack for you?” Actually, he wasn’t saying anything, but she went on. “Why not?”

“I’m not a princess.” Hunter looked at her for a moment, as if waiting to see if she’d say that neither was she, then he pivoted and headed to another of the hallways, tossing over his shoulder, “Don’t leave the building without me.”

Caught.

April knew it the second she realized Sharon was watching her watch the direction Hunter had gone.

“Oh, April, honey.” Sharon shook her head. “Don’t.”

“I’m not.” Heat rose from her chest up her throat. “I’m trying not to.”

“Try harder. It’s a dead-end road. I’m telling you, an absolute dead end, with a cliff at the end of it. I strong-armed Hunter into going out with one of my friends to celebrate his getting out of training. That was the first of three women who ended up as sobbing puddles on our sofa. Each and every one of them fell for the guy, sure they could rescue the man behind the iron mask, and each ended up with a bruised heart, battered ego, and swollen eyes. That’s when Ross — my husband — said no more. He
said
it was because of mascara stains on the couch, but it’s really because he doesn’t like to see people hurt.

“The last time I fixed Hunter up with one of my friends was a few years ago. I love Dee, but I’ve got to tell you, this woman is the Genghis Khan of dating. She sweeps in, takes no prisoners and moves on. She’d destroyed more hearts than a solid diet of butter would in a decade. Ross kept saying not to do it to Hunter. But I thought if something could shake him up, get through to him there’d be hope. And I thought if anything — anyone — could do it, it would be Dee.”

She shook her head. “No dice. Genghis had met her Waterloo, if you get my drift. At first she was all the more determined, certain she could conquer Hunter. Before long, though, she was on the phone to me twice a day, asking what was wrong with her that Hunter wasn’t interested. It was sad, really, to see this romance carnivore reduced to a twitching rabbit. Though, in the end, it did
her
a lot of good. She became much more empathetic and lost her zest for conquest. She met a nice corporate lawyer — if that’s not an oxymoron — and they just had their first baby.

“Still, I wouldn’t wish Hunter on my worst enemy as a romantic interest.”

“Hunter wouldn’t …” Or would he? What did she really know of him?

“Break hearts intentionally? No, he wouldn’t. It’s not that Hunter’s mean, he’s simply implacable. No, it’s more than that …”

Sharon frowned, looking down as she fiddled with the bracelet on her wrist.

April waited.

Sharon looked up, decision made. “I’ve wondered, with his background… You’ve read about some orphans from Russia, Eastern European countries who are neglected as babies, never held or given any loving, and when they’re adopted they don’t know how to love or be loved — attachment disorder they call it. I wonder if Hunter, with his background…”

“His background,” she repeated, nodding sagely. “In Bariavak.”

Sharon shot her a look, and April feared she was about to have her bluff called. Instead the other woman echoed her nod and said, “Yeah, with being orphaned so young during that uprising. He never talks about it.”

“Oh, my God.” She wasn’t sure her words were audible through suddenly numbed lips.

“It’s a miracle he survived,” Sharon continued. “They say he wouldn’t have lasted much longer if he hadn’t been picked up by a patrol of U.S. soldiers across the border. They were part of a multinational force patrolling the border to keep more outside fighters from coming in.

“The story is, one of the soldiers rescued him, fed him from his own rations, took him under his wing, and kept him under the official radar. Then Hunter’s guardian-angel soldier was killed, and he was sent to a refugee camp. Somehow, eventually he got to the States. Charities supported him. He also got scholarships and jobs, getting himself through school, college and grad school. Then he signed up with Diplomatic Security. He could have gone with any of the big ones — ATF, FBI, CIA, but he chose State. Hunter Pierce is an honorable, reliable man. And one hell of an agent.”

“You haven’t given up on him. As a person, I mean. Forming attachments.”

“No, but I’m a tough bird. Besides, I’m whacking away at his wall trying to reach
friendship
. Trying to dig all the way down to his heart?” She shook her head.

“I’m not—”

Sharon’s look stopped her words. But then she smiled. “Come on, let’s go see your room. It’s got to be capitalized, don’t you think? The way Madame says it:
The Periwinkle Room
.”

The room was not only the color of periwinkles. The blooms also appeared on the bedspread, draperies and upholstery.

April woke with the uneasy feeling she’d dreamed about being smothered by periwinkles.

Sharon’s departure yesterday afternoon had been followed by an uncomfortable hour while Madame gave her a tour of the building, detailing how it was divided into three zones — official reception rooms, embassy offices, and residential.

Only the king, the ambassador, and Madame Sabdoka had a say over all three zones.

April now knew it had been built in 1912 by a lumber baron, and bought by Bariavak in 1927 from his widow. Sixty-five rooms. One of a minority of embassies that also served as the ambassador’s residence. It had been updated two years earlier, the third major renovation during its time as Bariavak’s embassy. Each devoted to blending historic accuracy, modern function, and a dignified presentation on behalf of the people of Bariavak.

April had hoped Hunter would join them any minute on the tour, but when she’d interrupted Madame’s monologue to ask about him, the older woman had looked down her nose and declared he was, no doubt, establishing himself in his quarters.