AllFreeNovel
Share Us
She wrinkled her brow. “Play it safe?” she asked. “I am sorry, but I...”
“Don’t take any unnecessary risks,” he explained. “Take extra precautions.”
“Oh.” A self-deprecating smile flitted across her face. “Thank you for explaining. My English is—”
“Your English is probably better than mine,” he replied. “Unless you’re native born, though, a language’s idioms can be difficult to master.”
“True,” she said, with a smile that invited understanding.
But Trace wasn’t feeling particularly understanding at the moment. He held the door open for her. “If you please, Princess.”
Her eyes sought his, and he could see the question she wouldn’t voice engendered by the subtle insult embodied in that one word. What have I done to you?
He couldn’t tell her he’d heard her cruel words earlier, not without giving away he understood Zakharan. And that would defeat half his purpose in guarding her. I’d better tone it down, he told himself. No matter what I think of her personally, I’ve got a job to do.
When she was seated inside, he turned to the bodyguard who had tried to help her earlier. “If you want to sit in the front with the driver, go ahead. I’m going to ride shotgun.” And he slid into the seat beside the princess.
The cavalcade had already begun before the princess asked him, “Ride shotgun?”
Trace chuckled at the innocently curious note in her voice. He couldn’t help himself. “It actually means sitting beside the driver of a vehicle, providing armed protection. Like me, now. You’re not driving, but I’m still sitting beside you, armed and ready to do whatever’s necessary to protect you.”
She said something under her breath he had to strain to hear. “Even though you do not like me.”
“Yeah,” he said, “even though.” Her head snapped up, as if she was surprised he’d heard her. Or surprised he openly acknowledged his dislike.
She stared at him for a moment, her green eyes widening. Then she drew a deep breath and said, “I think we have somehow started incorrectly.” There was honest contrition in her face. “If I have offended you in some way, I apologize.”
Trace couldn’t hide his surprise. An apology? From her? That didn’t jibe with her insulting words earlier to her Zakharian bodyguard. But he couldn’t have misunderstood. It was a knack he had with regard to languages. Just as he had been able to soak up the Afghani language during his tour of duty there, not to mention the various tribal dialects that confused the hell out of most of his fellow soldiers, it hadn’t taken him more than three months to master the rudiments of the Zakharian language. And by the time he’d left Zakhar three months later he was speaking the language like a native.
No, he couldn’t have misunderstood her. But maybe, just maybe, there was an explanation. It’s not like me to jump to conclusions, he thought. Why did I? He had a suspicion, but he didn’t want to admit it. Especially not with the effect those green eyes were having on him. Safer to dislike her. But it was a tenuous safety at best.
* * *
The cavalcade drove through the iron gates of the palatial estate the king of Zakhar had purchased in the Boulder foothills and furnished for his sister’s year-long stay. Even though Trace had been here weeks earlier checking out the security measures and having new ones installed, he still couldn’t help mentally whistling through his teeth at the size and grandeur. But now that he’d seen the number of people accompanying the princess he realized the estate wasn’t too big—not if it had to accommodate a small army.
Trace had previously gone through every room in the house in minute detail, especially the bedrooms, and in his mind he’d already assigned rooms to the princess and the key personnel he knew were accompanying her. But the princess had other ideas, and wasn’t shy in the least about expressing her opinions.
“No,” she said immediately when he showed her to the large, sumptuous bedroom he’d picked out for her.
“Why not?” Trace dug in his heels. Not only was this the largest bedroom, it was the most easily defensible, situated as it was on the east side of the house with a vast expanse of open lawn in front of the long windows, no cover for anyone who might make it past the iron gates.
“I did not come to Boulder to look at grass,” she said firmly. “No matter how well kept. I wish to see the mountains from my bedroom window.”
She wandered through the house, oblivious not only to the beehive of activity around her, but also to Trace following behind her like a tall, grumpy shadow. She peered into room after room, commenting favorably or unfavorably on each of them in her native language, and once or twice Trace was hard put not to respond. But he knew she was talking to herself, not to him. And besides, she wasn’t to know he understood.
