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Not that you’ll ever have either woman, he told himself. The princess was as remote from him as the actress was. But that didn’t stop him from wanting her. And it didn’t stop him from wanting to shield her from anything that might cause her pain.
His hand had already been reaching for his SIG SAUER when the man called Wally had turned around suddenly at Summit Lake, even before he’d taken the princess’s picture. If it had been a gun in his hand instead of a camera, Wally would have been dead before he got off a shot. But Trace’s brain had registered camera, not gun, and he hadn’t fired. Then he’d heard the princess’s soft cry of dismay, and he’d known in a flash he had to protect her from that, too. Her whole day would have been destroyed if he hadn’t destroyed that picture.
Yeah, but you didn’t have to threaten the guy after you erased it, did you? Weren’t you just grandstanding for the princess’s benefit? he asked himself. But the answer he got back was, not really.
Part of his threat had been aimed at making sure no more pictures were taken of her, especially once the guy was out of gun range. But another part of the threat was reaction to something he’d never understood before until the princess had expressed it—the violation someone might feel at having their picture taken against their will, especially when it was repeated...endlessly. He couldn’t enforce his threat, but maybe the guy would think twice before he took someone else’s picture unawares.
When the princess had taken his hand afterward, when she’d looked up at him with unalloyed trust in her eyes, he’d had the slow-motion feeling of falling. He hadn’t expected the trust. Not so quickly after he’d seen the shock on her face at the sudden threat of violence she’d witnessed. But her hand had nestled trustingly in his all the way back to the SUV. She hadn’t said much on the long drive back to Boulder. But her eyes had spoken for her, and they had scared the hell out of him.
He’d spent most of Monday rebuilding his defenses, but to do that he’d had to resort to treating her as he had before the trip to Mount Evans, with that slightly mocking attitude. He’d watched the smile fade from her eyes, replaced by a flicker of hurt, then blankness—that lack of emotion in her expression she’d told him she’d learned early to keep the paparazzi from knowing what she was thinking. As if that weren’t bad enough, the blankness was followed by the acceptance of his rejection he’d seen in her eyes that first day, an acceptance that contrarily made him so angry he’d wanted to shake her.
Fortunately for him he’d been off for the next four days, and he hadn’t had to see her...except in his mind. He hadn’t had to think of her...except every other waking moment. And he hadn’t had to dream about her and her lovely green eyes...except he had. The dreams weren’t erotic—not at first. He’d dreamed of her standing on the Mount Evans summit, her green eyes vivid in the smiling face she turned to him. He’d dreamed of her at Summit Lake, snowflakes swirling, her green eyes not smiling at him this time, but filled with trust. And he’d dreamed of the way her green eyes had hurt for him as he talked about the futility of Afghanistan.
Then the dreams had turned erotic. Each memory had ended with a twist that was fantasy, not reality. Each dream had ended with the throbbing release he was fast coming to fear he could only find with her. Then he’d woken each time, hard and aching from the release he hadn’t found.
Cut her some slack, Liam had said. Right.
Then he remembered the other part of what Liam had said, about taking the princess to visit Keira and Alyssa. Maybe he should. At least with other people around—people he felt at home with, unlike her household staff—he’d be distracted from thinking about her all the time. And maybe she’d enjoy the novelty of seeing how ordinary folks lived—Liam was right about that. I’ll ask her at breakfast tomorrow, he thought. If she turns me down, no harm done.
Part of him hoped she would turn him down. He didn’t want to see her the way he’d seen her last Sunday, as a normal woman with normal wants, needs, desires—too dangerous for his peace of mind, especially after what had nearly happened on Mount Evans. He didn’t want to think of her as anyone but the princess she was.
But another part of him was hoping she would accept his invitation, the part of him that had led him into his often dangerous line of work. The part of him willing to take risks. The part of him willing to step into the line of fire.
And that’s exactly what he’d be doing if he let himself get too close emotionally to the princess—deliberately stepping into the line of fire.
