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“Security will be extremely tight from now until after the wedding,” Caleb said. “Especially for anyone around the royal family. William Stonehurst and his assistant, Maggie Albany, will be arriving in ten days. They won’t be staying at the palace. We’ve put them into guest accommodations.”
“William has dual citizenship between Escana and the UK,” Kassim explained. “He lived here for several years as his wife was Escanaian and a friend of my mother’s. And his assistant is his niece. They aren’t a security risk.”
Ian thought those sounded like famous last words to him.
2
“You know, normally, if I let someone touch my knickers, I’d expect them to buy me dinner first,” she joked.
The customs officer paused. Then he glanced up, giving her an incredulous look.
Maggie cleared her throat. Yeah, that was kind of a stupid thing to say to a customs officer. She always got nervous at airports. She felt guilty even when she had done nothing wrong.
It was ridiculous!
But she couldn’t help it, which is why she was shifting from foot to foot nervously as this hot, scary-as-fuck guy pawed over every little thing in her suitcase.
Even more nerve-racking, she didn’t know where Uncle Willy was. A different customs officer had led him off somewhere else. Although at least that officer had seemed friendly.
Unlike Mr. Grumpy-Knickers-Man.
She hoped he was all right. Uncle Willy, not the guy touching her underwear. New situations often confused her uncle. “Can I please see my uncle?”
The customs officer, who she’d noticed wasn’t wearing a uniform, stilled and gave her a stern look. “No.”
Yikes.
She hoped this wasn’t a sign of Escanaian hospitality. Although this guy had dirty-blond hair and an English accent.
“Well, why not?”
“Because I said so.”
Because he said so?
Wow. This guy was something else. Who said that anyway? She wasn’t a naughty child asking for more pudding.
Although sometimes she had been known to be naughty. And she did love pudding.
“I’d kill for some spotted dick right now,” she muttered.
“What?” He gaped at her.
“With custard. And whipped cream.”
His eyes widened.
“You’re English, right? You can’t tell me you’ve never had some spotted dick before.”
“The pudding?”
Well . . . what else would it be?
This guy was a tad odd.
“Because you said so?” she repeated, crossing her arms over her chest, irritation filling her. “Is that really an answer?”
“Yep.”
