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“Brilliant.” Her eyes twinkled merrily. “I’m certain the last impressive ability will come in very handy, as far too manymenlove to kiss and flirt with me.”
His gut tightened, more jealousy surging through him. Why hadn’t she said ‘try’? They attempted to kiss and flirt with her. They didn’t succeed. Correct? He had so many questions for her recent guards. He’d ask her, but he couldn’t reveal his hand like that.
“Captain? Kiera?” Lieutenant General Chad stood next to them with Sarah. Sergeant Naples approached. The other guards were still checking the interior.
“Sir.” Mason stepped back, and Kiera’s hands fell to her sides.
What was she doing to him? He’d been so distracted flirting—no, teasing—with her that he hadn’t noticed anything else. A battalion could’ve descended on them and he would’ve been lost in her eyes. That could never happen again.
Never. Had he truly promised the general he’dneverpursue Kiera? He’d had no inkling how short-sighted and idiotic such a promise had been.
The other guards exited the side door of the garage and nodded to him. All was clear.
“Let’s load the gear into the house,” Mason instructed.
“Yes, sir.” The men came forward and grabbed suitcases, duffel bags, ski gear bags, skis, and poles. The helicopter was unloaded quickly.
Prescott gave Princess Kiera a side hug and lifted a hand to Sarah. “Have a fun adventure,” he said. Oh good, he was leaving. Why had he shut the rotors down then? Just to silence the noise so they could say their goodbyes?
“Oh, we will.” Kiera gave Mason a significant look.
Mason focused on his superior. The lieutenant general was also giving him a significant look. Mason held eye contact, hoping he conveyed that he’d fulfill his assignment and not get distracted by Kiera’s long-lashed blue eyes or pretty bow of a mouth. Had her lips always been that full? Had her eyes always sparkled that prettily? He’d never taken the time to study them before.
“Stay on target, Captain,” Lieutenant General Prescott warned.
“I will, sir.” Mason understood exactly what he was saying. Don’t get sucked in or distracted. The princess’s safety was of utmost importance. He could do this. He saluted.
Prescott nodded to him, smiled at the women, and jumped into the helicopter.
Mason directed them away from the helicopter and toward the massive home. He spent time in the twelve-story, luxurious Augustine castle a good portion of his days, so mansions didn’t stun him any longer, but this one was light-filled, spacious, and top-of-the-line, with unreal views of the valley of seventy waterfalls.
Mason had some rough memories here. He had been beaten severely by four of William Rindlesbacher’s hired mercenaries, then locked in a room with little hope for escape before a bomb killed him, Levi, Prince Malik, Princess Sophie and her parents and young daughter. He’d been able to scale across the exterior wall, thousands of feet above the ground, and help rescue them. He’d also gotten some redemption, chopping the controls for the bomb out of William’s blood-stained hands.
Shaking it off, he escorted the women. It was impossible not to touch an elbow or lower back while escorting the princess. If only she had a thick coat on and not just that form-fitting sweater dress.
“Are you morphing into a popsicle?” he asked, leaning closer to her ear so she could hear his voice over the helicopter now lifting off the ground.
“My legs are a bit chilly,” she admitted, giving him a sassy look. “Are you offering to melt me out of my popsicle state?”
Mason’s eyes widened. This Princess Kiera could not be the same person he’d known before. She’d been a little girl, fun to tease, fun to challenge to crazy tricks and try to out-trick her. Now she was a master of flirtation. His stomach tightened as he wondered how many men had fallen under the spell of her charming lines, brilliant blue eyes, and beautiful shape.
He didn’t find his voice to answer as Sergeant Mueller held the door to the garage and they all filtered out of the chilly winter’s day into the huge, open, heated, and clean space. No motorized vehicles were allowed in Wengen, and four electric golf carts and shelves and cupboards of sporting equipment hardly filled the space.
“Do I look like a popsicle?” Kiera asked him.
“Maybe Captain Henson thinks popsicles are delicious,” Sarah said before he could respond.
Mason’s eyes widened as Kiera laughed at that.
“I’m afraid he doesn’t.” Kiera’s blue eyes filled with challenge.
“Red popsicles are my favorite,” he admitted, then immediately knew he shouldn’t have said that.
Kiera gestured to her red dress, an absolute perfect fit for her lean frame. “Are you referring to my lovely dress or my red legs, chilled from the cold?”
“Your legs don’t look red at all.”
“How do they look, Mason?” she asked softly.
