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A sudden memory surfaced—the princess taking his hand at Summit Lake, an expression of utter trust in her lovely green eyes. She should have been terrified, or at the very least she should have been on guard against him after his violent confrontation with the man who’d taken her picture. But she’d trusted him implicitly, had known somehow that the violent side of him would never be turned against her. Had known, too, that he would protect her with his life...and not just because he was her bodyguard.
That memory triggered a new line of thought. Maybe that’s when you first realized she mattered to you, he told himself with a flash of insight. Trust was such a rare and precious commodity. Other than his former partner, what other woman in his entire life had ever trusted him? Really trusted him?
The princess did. Even though he’d pushed her away emotionally, time and again, even though he’d resorted far too often to that mocking tone of voice to drive her away, she trusted him. And she didn’t hide it from him. Her hand had lain trustingly in his all the way back from Summit Lake. And her eyes...her eyes had spoken volumes.
* * *
The sun was shining brightly Sunday morning, the temperature hovering in the high thirties, and the air was calm and still when Mara walked out the front door to where Trace was waiting for her with the SUV. She was bundled up against the cold he had warned her they could experience at the higher elevation of Keystone no matter what the temperature was in Boulder, and her face was glowing with the anticipation of a child. When he’d casually mentioned his plans at dinner last night she’d been excited, all the more so since he indicated they wouldn’t need her chauffeur to accompany them. A chance to spend time alone with Trace was as exhilarating as it was unexpected.
He was dressed in jeans and a navy blue wool sweater with a Norwegian reindeer pattern across his broad chest. Boots and leather gloves, of course, and an unzipped down vest, also in navy blue, completed his ensemble. He was leaning casually against the SUV, and looked wonderfully masculine to Mara’s eyes.
“Good morning,” she told him with an uninhibited smile. “Are you sure you do not mind doing this?” One corner of his mouth quirked up in the little smile she was coming to know meant she’d somehow amused him, and she rushed to add, “Yes, I know you would not have offered if you did not mean it, but...”
“I see you took my advice and dressed warmly” was all he said, still with that private grin.
Mara stopped. “Too much?” she asked anxiously. She looked at her fur-lined boots into which her jeans were tucked, then at her heavy down parka in a shade of green that matched her eyes, and finally at her well-insulated mittens.
He took two steps toward her, and his smile was kind, not mocking. “Let’s just say you look more prepared for a hike through snowbound mountains than a drive in a heated SUV. You might want to swap those mittens for gloves that will let you control the steering wheel better. But,” he added gently, as if he’d noted the sudden dismay in her eyes, “bring the mittens, too. If we break down and have to walk for help, you’ll be ready. And that’s a good thing—better safe than sorry, especially in the Rockies.”
He turned slightly and hooked a thumb over his shoulder, indicating the back of the SUV. “I’ve got an emergency kit in there—thermal blankets, flares, water and rations. Not to mention a small snow shovel.”
Mara didn’t say anything, just nodded and went back into the house. When she returned she’d matched his outfit as nearly as she could—sweater, down vest and leather gloves—but she carried her down parka and mittens. Trace took them from her without a word and stowed them in the back, then held the driver’s door open for her. With that same kind voice he said, “Your chariot awaits, Princess.”
* * *
Mara drove along the clear streets of Boulder and picked up Highway 93, taking that south until she reached I-70 westbound. Trace kept up an innocuous conversation the entire time, conversation that soothed any flutter of nerves that cropped up. Not only that, he didn’t make any comments about the fact that she adamantly stayed in the right lane and drove below the posted speeds. Instead he gave her general driving tips and quizzed her about dealing with a variety of road issues.
“You’re doing fine, Princess,” he assured her when she cast him an anxious look as another car passed them.
“Yes, but there is no snow,” she said.
“Not yet” was all he said. “Wait until we get off the interstate.”
They reached Silverthorne after nearly two hours of driving, and stopped at a gas station to top off the tank and to use the facilities. Mara knew from things Alec and Liam had told her that it didn’t normally take two hours to drive from Boulder to Silverthorne—less than ninety minutes was the norm—but Trace hadn’t complained at her cautiousness. The two hours of steady driving had given her an increased confidence in her driving abilities, something she didn’t get just driving the few miles to and from the university. And she was actually enjoying her driving lesson.
