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Charlie’s whole body went cold. He’d have to watch as everyone else he knew was placed in their arranged marriages. He would be the outcast in their society of trinity marriages, a man bound to serve the organization, but without the hope of a family.
Charlie bowed his head, not wanting to let anyone see the panic he felt. He’d just found them, and now he was about to lose Hugo and Sylvia. He would never get to live out the fantasy he’d had this morning—hot, rough sex with his husband and wife in a sunny parlor. Maybe with the drapes open. Would Sylvia be into that?
“Admiral, please.” His voice was hoarse. He’d beg. He’d do anything. “I didn’t mean to offend you. I will protect you. I protected your wife when someone tried to—”
Arthur cut into his heartfelt, desperate plea. “Once you’re married, bring your new husband and wife to the London headquarters to pick up your sword, Lancelot.” Arthur’s tone held a note of satisfaction.
It was the voice of a man who’d had the last laugh. And he’d called Charlie Lancelot.
Wait, what? “Sword?”
“Every knight has one,” Arthur said almost cheerfully.
Charlie wanted to collapse in relief. He wasn’t being demoted and denied the trinity marriage. He took a moment to bask in the relief.
Eric and Arthur were both looking at him and grinning like morons. Oh, a joke? Turnabout was fair play. Calling himself Lancelot had been a joke on Arthur.
“I’ll get the information from Alicia, and then—”
“No, you won’t,” Arthur said again.
Charlie frowned. “Of the security officers, I’m the best at extended interrogation—”
Eric interrupted him. “A security officer wouldn’t have dived into that ocean to save a woman, rather than capture the criminal. That’s some knight shit.”
Charlie couldn’t decide if Eric’s tone was one of rebuke or respect. “Her hands were tied and she was unconscious. She would have drowned.”
“Saving Sylvia wasn’t your mission. Your mission was capturing Alicia. Yet you ignored your objective in favor of saving the damsel in distress.”
“It was stupid, I’m well aware that—”
“It wasn’t stupid. It was chivalrous. Knightly.”
Charlie’s eye twitched. Hugo had said the same thing at the time, but Charlie had rejected the idea, considering his actions tantamount to failure. Not that he regretted them. At all.
He’d tie his own hands and throw himself into the ocean if it meant Sylvia would live.
Arthur continued, “You were a young man, new to the SAS when you were recruited. Security officer was a natural fit. You’re nearly thirty now. A man’s perspective, his ideals, change with age.”
“A man must constantly exceed his level,” Eric added. “According to that very wise philosopher, Bruce Lee.”
“What are you saying?” Charlie asked. Stupid is as stupid does crossed his mind.
“You’re no longer a security officer. You are now a knight of England,” Sophia said.
Charlie looked between Eric and the laptop screen. “You’re serious?”
“Very,” Arthur assured him.
“But, I’m good at my job.” Charlie wasn’t even sure why he was arguing about it. He’d just been thinking he didn’t want to be a security officer anymore.
But he’d spent too many years feeling like the man who got the job done no matter the cost, while the knights pranced around being noble and snooty. He had blood on his hands, while the knights made sure their hands stayed clean by using a sword.
He wasn’t a knight. He just…wasn’t.
But he had been, with Sylvia and Hugo. For Sylvia, he’d ignored the mission objective in favor of saving the girl.
Eric leaned forward. “You were a damn good security officer. This isn’t a demotion. You’re not being punished. This is an honor.”
