Page 37 of Romancing Rayne

“Harry has Rayne.”

“Where? Is she okay? How did he find her?”

“Buckingham Palace. His physician has seen her, she’s fine. And I don’t know.”

“Physician?”

“That was all he said. She’s worried sick about you and wants you now.”

“She’s worried about me?”

“Hold on, mate, this is going to be like the good old days, minus the Taliban shooting at us.”

“Why the fuck didn’t he call us?” I asked, pulling my phone out of my pocket. “Shit, mine’s dead.”

“I’m afraid there is no service in most of the old buildings. And I didn’t exactly want to waste time checking my voicemail when we left. My fault, Mate.”

“Nothing’s your fault, Oliver. Thank you for all your help.”

“Don’t mention it.”

I would’ve been nervous with the way Oliver was driving if I hadn’t been so eager to get to Rayne. Red lights were ignored, he drove on the wrong side of the road, and even used the bike lane to get around traffic. We were in a high-speed chase without the chase. I white-knuckled the oh-shit bar to my left and fought the urge to close my eyes as he continued to weave through traffic. With each revolution of his tires he brought me that much closer to my wife.

He barely slowed as he approached the back entrance of the palace, the large, golden gates were open and ready for our arrival. He pulled around, coming to a stop under a large, stone archway. The prince appeared in the open doorway, worry etched in his face.

I pushed the car door open and bolted across the tarmac toward Spike. Oliver didn’t bother turning the car off when he, too, jumped out and jogged the short distance.

“She’s safe and resting upstairs,” Spike said immediately, trying to placate me. “I’ll take you to her.”

He led us through a staff kitchen to a set of stairs, taking two at a time until we came to a landing with a closed door that read: First Floor Gallery. Before he opened the door, he turned to me.

“She’s very worried you’re upset with her.”

“Upset? I’ve been scared to fucking death all day. My heart feels like it's been ripped from my chest.”

“I’ll let her explain what happened. But I want to warn you, she has an IV. Just to rehydrate her. I insisted it stay in until you got here even though she complained she felt fine.”

I closed my eyes and wasn’t sure if I wanted to weep with joy or go back to the room with the taxi driver and beat the hell out of him some more.

“Thank you,” I choked out. “I owe you my life.”

“You don’t owe me anything. What are mates for if not to watch out for one another?”

“Thank you all the same.”

“It’s my pleasure. Come, I’ll take you to your sleeping beauty.”

He opened the door leading to a grand lobby, and I tried my best to stand tall and look respectable. I wasn’t sure if I was pulling it off or not, and if I had to guess it would be a negative. All I wanted was to see Rayne.

Spike opened the door, and there she was sleeping in the middle of a huge canopy bed, looking every bit of the princess I knew she was.

I stepped into the room and willed my legs not to buckle. I noted Meghan was sitting vigil by Rayne’s bedside and would have to thank her later. All I wanted to do was pull my wife into my arms and breathe her in.

Meghan stood and smiled, and with a nod of acknowledgment she moved to leave. I kicked my shoes off and climbed into bed next to Rayne. The door shut, and I scooted as close to her as I could. Her eyes came open and after a moment, they widened before she tried to sit up.

“Relax, Princess.”

“Ghost! You’re here. I’m sorry. I’m so, so—”