It was all she spoke to me when I was a child. It was why-”
“We do not have time for explanations,” Vladimir said harshly. “Lady Olivia, we must go
She must have responded to the authority in his voice, because she nodded and, still looking unsteady and scared, allowed Harry to help her to her feet.
“I will explain everything soon,” he told her. “I promise you.”
“How did you find me?” she whispered.
He looked down at her as they hurried from the room. Her eyes had changed; she still looked shaken, but he could see
“We heard your noise,” Vladimir said, holding his gun at the ready as he checked around a corner. “That was very fortunate of you. Possibly very foolish, too. But it is good that you did it.”
Olivia nodded, and then, to Harry, she said, “Why is he speaking English?”
“He is a bit more than a bodyguard,” Harry said, hoping that would be enough for now. It wasn’t the time to unravel the entire story.
“Come,” Vladimir said, motioning for them to follow.
“Who is he?” Olivia whispered.
“I really couldn’t say,” Harry replied.
“You will never see me again,” Vladimir said, almost offhandedly.
As much as Harry was beginning to like and respect the man, he fervently hoped that was true. This was
He liked boring. He
But boring, unfortunately, was not to be the watchword of the rest of the evening…
Chapter Twenty-four
But she didn’t let go of his hand.
She was still in a panic, heart racing and blood pounding, and she didn’t understand why he was speaking Russian or holding a gun, and she wasn’t sure if she should trust him, and even worse, she didn’t know if she could trust
But still, she didn’t let go of his hand. It was, in that terrifying moment, the one true thing in her life.
“This way,” Vladimir said curtly, leading the way. They were heading to the ambassador’s office, where her parents waited. They still had a way to go, or so Olivia assumed from the silence in the halls. When she could hear the hum of the party, then she would know that she was close.
But they were not moving quickly. At every corner, and at the top and bottom of each staircase Vladimir would stop, placing one finger to his lips as he pressed himself against the wall and peered carefully around the corner. And every time, Harry followed suit, pushing her behind him, guarding her with his body.
Olivia understood the need for caution, but she felt as if something inside of her were about to burst, and she just wanted to break free and run, to feel the air whistling past her face as she flew through the halls.
She wanted to go home.
She wanted her mother.
She wanted to take off this dress and burn it, to wash herself, to drink something sweet or sour or minty- whatever would most quickly wipe the taste of fear from her mouth.
She wanted to curl up in her bed, and pull the pillow over her head-she didn’t want to think about any of this. She wanted, for once in her life, to be
And hold Harry’s hand.
“Olivia.”
She looked over at him, and it was only then that she realized that she
“Are you all right?” he whispered.
She nodded, even though she wasn’t. But she thought she might be all right
“Can you do this?” he asked.
“I have to.” Because, really, what other choice did she have?
He squeezed her hand.
She swallowed, looking down at where they touched, his skin against hers. His grip was warm, almost hot, and she wondered if her fingers felt like sharp little icicles in his palm.
“It’s not much farther,” he assured her.
The words hovered on her lips, almost tumbled out. But she caught them, held them inside. This wasn’t the time to ask questions. She had to focus on what she was doing, what
She had to have faith that he would deliver her to safety. She had no choice.
She had to trust him.
She had to.
Then she looked at him, really looked at him for the first time since he and Vladimir had rescued her. The strange gauzy fog that had washed over her began to lift, and she realized that her mind was finally clear. Or rather, she thought with a funny, rueful little twitch of her lips, it was clear enough.
Clear enough to know that she did trust him.
It wasn’t because she had to. It was simply because she did. Because she loved him. And maybe she didn’t know why he hadn’t told her he spoke Russian, but she knew
She saw him smiling.
She saw him laughing.
And she saw his eyes, open to his soul, as he told her he loved her.
“I trust you,” she whispered. He didn’t hear her, but it didn’t matter. She hadn’t said the words for him.
She’d said them for herself.
Harry had forgotten just how much he hated this. He’d fought in enough battles to know that some men thrived on danger. And he’d fought in more than enough to know that he was not one of them.
He could keep his head, act with calm and rational intent, but afterward, when safety had settled around him like a shroud, he began to shake. His breath came faster and faster, and more than once, he’d lost his belly.
He didn’t like fear.
And never in his life had he been more afraid.
The men who had taken Olivia were ruthless, or so Vladimir had told him when they were searching for her. They had served the ambassador for years and had been amply rewarded for their misdeeds. They were loyal and violent-a terrifying combination. The only consolation was that they were unlikely to hurt Olivia if they thought she was of value to Prince Alexei. But now that she had escaped, who knew how they might judge her? They might consider her soiled goods, completely expendable.