Unfaded Glory (15 page)

“Promise me you won't kill him.”

“I can't make that promise, Damara. I won't lie to you.”

A chill skittered down her back. “Even knowing I couldn't forgive you?”

“If Renner tells me to kill him, I don't have a choice.”

“Yes, you do. We always have a choice.” She knew she should break away from the embrace, but he was still her lifeline. She couldn't let go. She'd lost everything else.

He closed his eyes and leaned his forehead against hers. “All right, Damara. I'll defy everyone for you—my country, my boss, myself. On one condition. If he hurts you, you release me from my promise.”

“You could say what he's doing right now is hurting me.”

“I could, but I'm not dancing around anything here. If he makes an attempt on your life, kidnaps you or otherwise lays hands on you, I will put an end to him, promise or no. Release or no. Period.”

“I guess I'll have to be content with that.” She cupped his cheek. “Thank you for even that concession.”

“Always the diplomat, aren't you?” There was no malice in his words, so she wasn't sure what he meant.

“I don't—” She shook her head.

“You didn't get exactly what you wanted, but you thanked me anyway. You soothed over whatever doubts I had and cleared away the debris that might have turned into an argument.”

She cocked her head to the side. “Why would we argue? You've stated your position. I've stated mine. And we came to a compromise that neither of us is happy with, but we can both live with. What's there to fight over? This is the way of the world.”

He laughed with honest mirth. “You always surprise me, Damara. For how innocent you are, at times you're very worldly wise.” He shook his head. “I didn't expect you.”

“Well, that was obvious when you told me that you thought the Jewel was a stone.”

“No, I didn't expect that, either. But sometimes what we don't expect—it's better.”

She didn't dare let herself feel any of the things that flowered sweet and warm inside of her. They were all better left in the dark. If they never saw the sun, if she never acknowledged them, it wouldn't hurt so much when she had to shove them back down and hide them away from both Byron and herself.

“Sorry to cut this short, but we should get back to the house.”

She nodded.

The walk back wasn't nearly as lovely. It was filled with a heavy silence. Marrying him hadn't been real. She'd thought that somehow everything would come together and it would all work out.

Part of her had wanted to believe in the spin they had crafted for the rest of the world, that he'd fallen hard for her while saving her. But that was just her being a naive girl who didn't know any better. She'd wrapped him up in the pretty colors of her fantasies and damn if he hadn't tried his best to live up to them.

Her hands shook, and she shivered.

Sonja pulled up to the house as they approached, her thin face pinched and grim.

Once inside, Byron said, “That was fast.”

Sonja spread the papers out before them, and Damara froze.

She picked up the pen and looked at the document that would bind her and Byron together. Her hands were still shaking.

For all her talk, she didn't know if she could do this to him, knowing it wasn't what he wanted. Her eyes were drawn to his face. She was both curious and afraid as to what she'd see there. Damara knew if she saw dread or misery, she wouldn't be able to sign.

She'd have to find another way.

He grabbed the pen out of her hand and scrawled his signature in black ink; then he handed it back to her.

She signed, intensely aware that with every swoop and curl of her signature she was changing her life irrevocably. No matter what happened now, she would be Byron Hawkins's wife. Even if it only lasted a day, a month, a year or five years. She would have joined her life to his.

And he to hers.

If Abele was removed from power, he'd be a crown prince of Castallegna. He could be king.

She paused and looked at him again.

He wouldn't be a bad king. He was a good man. But was he good enough to relinquish that kind of power?

He was. She knew it in the marrow of her bones.

She finished signing.

“I now pronounce you princess and ranger. Many happy returns,” Sonja said, her voice as grim as her expression. “I hate to drop a bomb and run, but we still have to make your marriage an event for the world to see, and I need to reschedule that satellite interview.” Sonja took pictures of the papers with her cell phone before stuffing them back in her briefcase. “I'll be working from the carriage house office.” She nodded her head toward the back of the grounds where the security detail was lodged.

It was official. She was married.

To the man of her dreams who didn't want her.

“I'm sorry,” she said when Sonja and the rest of the crew had left. “I know what you're sacrificing.”

“And I know what you're sacrificing. We agreed to this. Actually, you bullied me into this,” he teased.

“It's not funny.” She felt her lips thin.

Byron tilted her chin up to make her look at him. “I'm not giving anything up to do this, Damara.”

“But you said—” She remembered how he'd said he didn't want her. She wished she could forget. Even after everything, that still played on a constant loop in her head.

“I say a lot of stupid shit. You'll learn that soon enough.” He laughed, but it was awkward and uncomfortable. “First of all, this is my job. It's what I do. Your safety, your people, they're my mission. Serving you—” he smirked, and she blushed “—is how I can best serve my country.” Then he was serious again. “It's an honor to do so.”

She wanted to cry. She was so stupid. Of course she was a mission. She couldn't ever let herself forget that. But there were moments that she did. Like now, when he offered her succor and protection against the world.

But he did not belong to her and she wasn't that to him—never could be that to him. He wouldn't let her.

“That's not supposed to make you unhappy, Damara.”

“Supposed to?” She shook her head. “This isn't anything that we haven't been over.”

“I'm sorry I can't give you what you need.”

“No, you're exactly what I need.” She only wished he could believe it— No, even if he believed it, he didn't want to be what she needed. He was still too busy punishing himself for his crimes. “All that matters is Castallegna.”

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

B
YRON
HADN
'
T
PLANNED
for Damara, not in any way, shape or form. She was chaos and light.

Most people thought of chaos as something bad, especially for someone like him who had regimentally planned his life around structure and protocol. He operated within these confines to make sure the only people he could hurt had it coming.

He didn't grieve that—it was just how things had to be. But Damara had changed that. She gave him purpose, she gave him—

She gave him hope.

Hope for a future, hope that he could be more than what he thought he was.

It had damn near killed him to promise not to kill her brother outright. It offended Byron to the blackest part of the soul he wasn't sure he had that the bastard drew breath in the same world as Damara. Or that his words could still wound her so deeply. After everything she'd done, how resolutely she fought, he was the chink in her armor.

And Byron wouldn't let anyone hurt her.

Protecting her was the best thing he'd ever done; the only thing he felt was honorable. Now she was his wife.

He knew he was at cross-purposes with himself. If he killed her brother, there'd be no reason for her to stay married to him. She'd be safe.

Byron knew eventually he'd lose her either way. He'd rather know she was safe and living some wonderful life than keep her clinging to him out of fear.

His mind had been made up.

Abele Petrakis had to die.

But he wouldn't break his word because he wouldn't have to. He fully expected that Abele would do something to hurt Damara, and then Byron would be free to do what he should have done on day one and kill him.

Of course, if he'd done it then, he never would've had this time with Damara. He couldn't regret it.

Having come to that decision, a sense of peace filled him. This was what he was trained to do, and he would do it well. Damara would be safe.

He shuffled his feet and stuffed his hands in his pockets. He'd decided to kill her brother and had married her. Now he had no idea what to say to her.

From the look on her face, she felt the same way— uncomfortable and awkward.

“Strange, isn't it? We had no lack of conversation in the middle of the ocean running for our lives, but here in our house, after getting married, neither of us has anything to say.”

“I'm not sure what there is to say. You're my husband now. It feels so strange to say.”

“Especially since I'm not a prince.” There was no rancor in his voice. They both knew she'd been groomed to marry another royal. Her whole life had been changed in the past few weeks.

Her expression was grave. “You will be, if Abele is removed from power. Actually, you'll be a king.”

“Nah, I'll just be Byron Hawkins. Former ranger and current bodyguard.”

She nodded slowly. “I think you're the only man on the planet who would give it back.”

“It's not mine.” He shrugged, uncomfortable with the light he saw in her eyes.

It made it uncomfortable because he wanted it to stay there. No one had ever looked at him like that before. It was as if he'd hung the moon and stars and there was nothing he couldn't do.

It was such a pretty lie. If he wasn't careful, she'd have him believing it and confessing his sins to her. And then she'd see. She'd know...

All he could do for her now was make her safe.

“Don't look at me like that,” he commanded. It felt too good, even knowing it was a lie, the way she seemed to raise him on some pedestal of virtue.

“Like what?”

“Like I'm a good man.”

“You are!” She went to him, placed her hand on his cheek. “You're a better man than you know.”

“No.” He shook his head. “I'm not.”

“Why do you say that?”

He couldn't tell her. He still couldn't admit his failures. It would mean watching that light in her eyes dim. So, instead, he spoke of the things that didn't scare him. “Because I remember what you said to me, that you didn't want me to touch you without knowing all of my sins. But when you look at me that way, it makes me want to kiss you. And I know if I did, you'd wrap your arms around my neck and let me take you upstairs.”

Her eyes widened; her lips parted. “And maybe I was stupid to try to deny this pull between us. I'm going to get my heart broken anyway.”

That wasn't what he expected her to say. He thought she'd be angry or indignant. Not this acceptance. This wasn't what she wanted. He knew that.

Byron was trying to put distance between them without extinguishing that light—he couldn't bear to give it up.

Yet, if he killed Abele, he knew he'd have to. She'd never forgive him. There were so many things he'd done that weren't worthy of forgiveness, and many where there was no one left who could forgive him.

She walked toward him, that terrifying expression still on her face.

The doorbell rang, clanging through the house like a death knell.

But neither of them moved.

“Hawkins,” one of the security team yelled through the door. “You and the princess have company to welcome you to the neighborhood. And Bundt cakes.”

“So it begins,” he said ominously.

He opened the door, and it was just as he feared. Soon every surface was covered with casserole dishes, desserts and three-layer salads made out of things that should never be called salad. Or put in people's mouths at the same time, for that matter.

The Ladies Auxiliary, with their large purple hats and myriad of baking dishes, had detonated an explosion of all sorts of homemade dishes in his kitchen.

Damara watched with bright eyes as Mrs. Cresswell, his former math teacher, dished up plates of everything and handed it to them.

Half the time, her class had been the only one he'd bothered to attend.

Damara was getting a heaping serving of his past whether he wanted to share it with her or not.

“Come give us a hug, kiddo,” Mrs. Cresswell said.

He embraced her, and she patted his back reassuringly. She still smelled like roses. He remembered that her room always smelled like that rose perfume. It reminded him of the time she'd caught him pulling the fire alarm. He'd been meticulously removing the plastic covering that was supposed to repel such activity when he'd smelled her rose perfume. He'd thought for sure he was busted.

All she'd done was sigh and motion for him to hurry up. She'd said it was a nice day outside and they could all use a break, but if he did it again, she'd rat him out.

She probably should've turned him in to begin with.

“You've done well for yourself. I always knew you would, once you found an outlet for your...talents.” She smiled.

“Have you had anyone as bad as I was since?” He raised a brow and Helena Sutterfield sniffed indignantly.

“Johnny Hart gave you a run for your money—that's for sure.” She shook her head. “Brilliant with numbers but no ambition.”

He considered. “You know, I think your class actually saved my life a couple times.”

She lit up. “Maybe you'll come speak at the school and you can tell them that. I hear from kids all the time that they'll never use advanced math in their everyday lives and it's a waste of time.”

“You never know when you'll have to calculate the gross national product of a country in relation to a mobster's investments and how much you'll need to pretend to make to get him to take a meeting with you. And then to discuss market trends without sounding like an idiot.”

She held up her hands. “See, ladies? What did I say? He was really a good kid underneath all that trouble.”

Her praise made him uncomfortable.

“A good kid? He's the best of men,” Damara said.

Now it was more than uncomfortable. He itched. Damara's praise had given him a rash.

“I bet the princess here has no idea just what a little hoodlum her ranger used to be,” Helena announced.

“Oh, I think I might. You don't get the skills you need to rescue princesses without getting your armor dinged up just a bit.” Damara smiled at him.

No, no, no. He could not let her make this okay. It wasn't. Because then she'd have him thinking those thoughts again. That he wasn't born bad. But he was. He knew he was.

“Frankly, we were all surprised,” Helena said.

“I wasn't,” Mrs. Cresswell said.

“Then you were the only one.” Helena sniffed again.

Damara bristled beside him. “In my country, it's rude to enter a person's home and say disparaging things about them. I can't imagine it's much different here. Is it, Mrs. Cresswell?”

The woman laughed. “No, dear. It's exceedingly rude.” She eyed Helena.

But Helena Sutterfield wasn't about to be intimidated or put off. “Rude would be the time he—”

“Helena, really,” Mrs. Cresswell interrupted her.

She was right, though.

He realized this was why he liked covert work so much—he could be someone else. “No, by all means.” He held out his hand in invitation. Let them say what they would about him, let them warn Damara off him as if he were a rabid dog that needed to be put down. Maybe that would make it easier to stay away from her.

Helena looked back and forth between them, but she shoved a bite of gelatin surprise in her mouth instead of speaking.

Which Byron had to think was a first.

“Ladies, I'm going to share a secret with you, but you must promise not to tell anyone else.” Damara quickly changed the subject.

They all looked at her and nodded, appearing to be eager for whatever gossip the princess would share with them.

“Byron and I didn't want to wait anymore. So we got married this morning.”

There was a collective gasp.

“We're still going to have a ceremony, but—”

“You're newlyweds and you'd like to enjoy your privacy,” Mrs. Cresswell said with a knowing grin. “Well, ladies. Let's leave our young prince with his princess.”

Byron rather thought getting them together to do something as a group had to be like herding cats, but Mrs. Cresswell managed it. Probably the same way she managed him. With a flurry of hugs and well wishes, the ladies were gone.

“How do you do that?” he asked her.

“What?” She turned to look at him.

“Make everyone want to do things for you.”

Damara shook her head. “I didn't realize I did.”

“Thanks for getting rid of them. I know they mean well.” He was secretly grateful she'd gotten rid of them before they could sour her on him, before they could tell her all the horrible things he'd done and why he'd never be anything better than what he was.

“So you ran with a bad crowd, huh?” She smiled.

“I
was
the bad crowd, Damara.”

“I meant what I said. I don't care that you were some bad-boy kid.” She shook her head. “You're a good man.”

“Stop saying that.” He was almost pleading.

“Why?”

He turned to look into her eyes, hope and fear warring inside him. “Because I might start to believe you.”

* * *

D
AMARA
WAS
DONE
fighting herself.

Even if she never gave her body to him again, her heart never had a chance. The connection she shared with him wouldn't ever let her be free. She wasn't naive enough to think she was in love with him already, but she'd already tripped over the ledge and she was falling hard and fast.

And she knew he wouldn't be there to catch her. She would hit bottom and she'd hit it alone.

It was really quite something to make the choice knowing he'd never be hers. Never feel the same way about her that she did about him.

He'd already touched her once. Didn't they deserve to have some pleasure, something that felt good? If that's all he had to share with her, she'd take it. By handing down edicts she'd been trying to change him, and she knew you couldn't do that with people. You had to accept them as they were.

Byron didn't want to cut himself open and show her his pain, and who was she to demand that he do it? Why was that her place? It wasn't. The same as he couldn't make her choices for her, she couldn't make his for him. His pain was his. Why did she need to dig around in his wounds?

They were married now; they might as well reap some of the benefits.

“That look on your face is even more terrible than the one before.” He took a step back, hands in front of him as if that could protect him from whatever she was thinking.

“Is it?” she asked, not really looking for a response.

“You've come to some kind of decision, and from the set to your jaw, I don't think I'm going to like it.” He shook his head.

“You'll like it. You'll like it a lot.” She hoped. “You said you wanted to kiss me before the Purple Hats showed up. So kiss me.”

“I thought we decided that was a bad idea.”

“Changed my mind.” She wet her lips.

“Because someone said something to me you thought was mean? The world is full of cruel people.” He stepped back from her.

“It is, but it's full of good people, too.”
Like you,
she wanted to add.

“Are you going to kiss everyone Helena Sutterfield was mean to? Even if they deserved it?”

He was still trying to do the right thing, trying to take care of her and protect her from herself. But he needed to understand that you could never protect a person from their own wants, desires, angels and demons. They were always present. “Do you remember when you said I could see anything I wanted?”

His eyes closed. “You're offering me what I want most knowing I can't give you the same.” She could see his pulse beating in his neck, and she wanted to touch her lips to that place.