Stepping Into The Prince's World. Marion Lennox
world that he put his arms around her.
She curled into him with a sleepy murmur.
‘Nice,’ she said again. ‘Sleep.’
* * *
He woke and it was still daylight. Was it late afternoon or was it the next day? For now he didn’t know and didn’t care.
He was still on the settee. The room was warm. He was warm. The fire was a mass of glowing embers.
He was holding Claire.
There were aches in his body, just waiting to make themselves known. He could feel them lurking. They’d make themselves known if he moved.
But for now he had no intention of moving. He lay with the warmth of the woman beside him: a gentle, amazing comfort. Her towel had slipped. He was lying on her uninjured side. Her naked body was against his chest and he was cradling her to him. She was using his chest as a pillow.
He had a T-shirt on but it didn’t feel like it. Her warmth made it feel as if she was almost a part of him.
He could feel her heartbeat. Her hair had dried and was tumbling across his chest, and her breathing was deep and even.
After the perils, the fear, the exhaustion of the last two days, he was filled with a sense of peace so great it threatened to overwhelm him.
He’d been in dangerous situations before. He’d had moments when he’d ended up sleeping tight with other members of his unit, some of them women. He’d held people when they’d been in mutual danger.
But he’d never felt like this, he thought. As if this woman was right.
As if this woman was part of him.
That was a crazy thought, he decided, and he hadn’t even taken any drugs. What was going on?
He must have moved a little, because Claire stirred and opened her eyes and shifted a fraction. She didn’t move far, though. She was still cradled against him.
Her heartbeat was still his.
‘Nice,’ she said, as she’d said before she’d slept, and it was like a blessing.
‘Nice?’
‘The wind’s died.’
It had, too. He hadn’t noticed.
He had sensory overload.He couldn’t get past the feeling of the woman in his arms.
‘Pain?’ he asked, and she seemed to think about it.
‘Nope,’ she said at last. ‘Not if I lie really still.’
That suited him. They lay really still. Rocky was snuffling under the settee. Maybe that was what had woken them.
Or other, more mundane things.
‘I need the bathroom,’ she murmured, and he conceded that he did, too. And the fire needed more logs. And, to tell the truth, he was so hungry he could eat a horse—the milk and tea had barely hit the sides—but he was prepared to ignore everything if she’d stay where she was. But now Rocky had his paws up on the settee and was looking at them with bright, expectant eyes.
‘That’s his “feed me” look,’ Claire murmured, and she moved a little so she could scratch behind his ear with her good hand. And then she said, in a different voice, ‘I’ve lost my towel.’
‘So you have.’ It was hard not to sound complacent.
She tugged back, hauled the blanket up across her breasts and tried a glare. It wasn’t a very big glare. Those drugs must have packed a fair punch, he thought. She still looked dazed.
Actually...beautifully dazed. She had wide green eyes that seemed to be struggling to focus. She had skin that seemed almost translucent. Her lashes were long and curled a little, and her nose was ever so slightly snubbed.
‘You noticed,’ she said accusingly, and he shook his head.
‘No, ma’am. I’ve been looking at Rocky all the time.’
‘Liar.’
‘Yes, ma’am.’
She grinned, and he thought that if she’d had two good hands she might have punched him. But one was still pretty much tied up. He was safe.
‘Life,’ she said.
‘Sorry?’
‘We fought to keep it. We might as well get on with it.’
‘You mean we need to feed the fire, go to the bathroom, feed the dog, find something to eat ourselves...’
‘And think of some way to contact the mainland.’ Her smile faded. ‘Will people be looking for you?’
He thought of his minders. At midday, when he’d spoken to Franz, he had been supposed to be with his unit. His minders had therefore been off duty. At six that night they’d have rung to check his itinerary for the following day.
He’d have been expected to be back well before six. They’d have rung and someone would have told them he was off duty. Then they’d have contacted Franz. ‘He’s off duty as of this morning. I believe he’s planning on returning home,’ he would have told them, and then someone would have been sent to check his kit and discovered it was still where it was supposed to be.
It would have taken his minders about thirty seconds after that to panic.
‘What is it?’ she said, and pushed herself up, wincing a bit as she moved her arm.
‘What?’
‘Your face. Someone’s looking for you right now. Someone’s terrified. Your wife? Partner? Family?’
‘I don’t have a wife or partner.’
‘Family? Parents?’
‘My parents died when I was five, but I do have grandparents.’
‘Back in Marétal?’
‘Yes.’ He closed his eyes, thinking of the fuss when his grandparents discovered he was missing. Then he thought of how long he’d been gone. After all this time it wouldn’t be fuss. It would be horror. ‘I imagine they’ll know I’m missing.’
She was sitting up now, blanket tucked to her chin, concentrating on the problem at hand. ‘Don’t worry too much,’ she told him. ‘The wind’s died. I suspect you’ll be mortified, but the Australian Air Sea Rescue services are good. They can probably track the wind and the currents and get a fair idea of your direction. If I was them I’d be checking the islands first. There’s only about ten. Any minute now we’ll have choppers overhead, searching for one lost soldier.’
He felt sick.
‘Don’t worry,’ Claire said again. ‘I imagine it’s embarrassing, getting rescued twice, once even by a girl, but you’ll just have to cop it.’
‘I won’t,’ he told her.
‘Are you going to tell me how you can avoid it?’
‘I already have avoided it,’ he said, goaded. ‘I didn’t tell anyone I was going sailing. What’s more, I took my friend’s boat. My friend’s currently trying to climb Annapurna Two in Nepal. He won’t know I’m missing and he won’t know his boat’s missing. No one knows I went to sea. I could be anywhere and my...my grandparents will be devastated.’
His grandparents?
This wasn’t just about his grandparents, he thought. His bodyguard consisted of two skilled, decent men who’d feel as if they’d failed. The top brass of the army would be mortified. His friends would be appalled. And, back home, the media would be in a feeding frenzy. Heir to the Throne Disappears! It didn’t bear thinking about.
He would have groaned if it would do any good.
It wouldn’t.