A man with the bald head looked out across the garden. She didn’t dare move for fear he would look over and see them huddled against the red brick. If he did, he would see a couple in a romantic embrace and hopefully move on.
Warm breath brushed her ear and she ducked her eyes, suddenly feeling shy.
There was a grunt and the door clicked shut.
The music disappeared.
The chatter silenced.
Shut off from the world she knew, Kingston, and her royal responsibilities should have invigorated Nyssa, and shot her with another jolt of courage. Instead, the sound of the door shutting had felt like a slap to the face. She kept her gaze on her shoes, wondering if she should just pound on the door and beg to be let back in. She was in a foreign country with a man she didn’t know. The severity of her situation crashed in and she stumbled out of his arms. Having put several feet between them, she smoothed out her dress and lifted her chin.
Chapter Six
Tatum stared at the door, amazed at how close he’d come to being discovered by the assassin. He couldn’t go back into the party to find the princess. The front entrance would be vulnerable. No. His best bet was to write off the evening and move to Plan B.
He didn’t have a Plan B.
He looked at the beautiful woman who’d tucked herself out the door like a child escaping Sunday school, and kicked himself for placing her in danger. She couldn’t know that two men who mortally hated one another had almost clashed, and yet she seemed frightened.
“I’ll have to go back in—I’ll be missed.” Her voice cracked on the word missed. Though her back was straight and her chin high, she continually brushed her thumb over her fingertips in a nervous gesture.
He considered her phrasing. She spoke as if reminding him that someone would come looking for her, that she wasn’t alone in the world. He wanted to smack his forehead. She wasn’t afraid of the guy without eyebrows; she was afraid to be out here with him.
He’d been stupid on so many levels tonight. He had done some preliminary research on her island and their traditions. Women stayed close to their family until their courtships, when they were encouraged to spend time alone with their espoused. She probably hadn’t been alone with a man besides her father or brothers—ever. He wouldn’t do anything to hurt her, but he’d given her very little to trust him on.
“If you would like to go back, I will deliver you immediately to the front doors.” He took her hand and tucked it into the crook of his arm. “If you would like to enjoy the fresh air for a moment, I’d be happy to escort you.” He was so glad Nelson wasn’t here to hear him say words like escort. They used that word almost daily in their business. They escorted people all the time—but they were usually holding semi-automatic weapons, not trying to talk a beautiful woman into walking around a garden with them. He laid as much decency and honesty into his look as he could, praying she read his intentions and found them worthy.
She searched his gaze, her fingers stiff in his hand. After a moment, the tension rimming, her eyes relaxed. “Well, I could stay for a few minutes,” she said quietly. “I am curious as to how you’re going to get us back inside. Climb a trellis, perhaps?”
He smiled at her teasing. If he were the type of man who chased women, he might even call it flirting. “Give me a little more credit than that.” He guided her away from the doors and the trouble they contained, and towards the three-tiered fountain in the center of the garden.
She looked over her shoulder and stared at the door, a worried frown marring her perky lips.
He hooked a finger under her jaw, returning her attention to him. “The first rule of running away is to not look back.”
“You have a lot of strange rules.”
He chuckled. “Welcome to life in the navy.”
She nodded once. “We haven’t been properly introduced.”
He laughed. “I’d say we were improperly introduced.”
“Quite improper.” She leaned into his arm and he liked the way she fit against him, making him wonder what other ways they’d fit together. Their lips would fit together quite nicely—of that he was sure.
“I’m—l …” She hesitated. “Neese.”
No last name. If she were American, he’d think she was avoiding giving out personal information—a clear sign that she wasn’t that into him. But she wasn’t American. The customs on her island may be different. He decided to follow her lead. “Nice to properly meet you, Neese. I’m Tatum.”
She smiled and then shivered. The spring night was chilly, too chilly for bare shoulders and skin that was used to warmer temperatures. He shucked his jacket, wrapping it around her shoulders and earning a grateful smile in return.
A moment too late, he remembered the knife in the pocket. Taking her left hand, he kept it securely in his own so it wouldn’t find its way around the hilt by accident. Explaining away a cow magnet that could disable alarms was one thing; a weapon would be quite another.
He wasn’t ashamed of his job. On the contrary, he had served his country with honor and believed in the company he and Nelson built. In all that he did, there was an element of darkness. That darkness didn’t belong with an innocent like Neese, and he wasn’t going to be the one to share it with her. For the moment, he
