Page 4 of Royal Salvation

The drive down from Longtown to London had only one benefit as far as he could see, and that was it gave him an excuse to stop in and see Snow and Fleur, along with the bonus of winding Sebastian up. With Snow splitting her time between Shadow HQ and her new home, Reaper knew it was only a matter of time before Sebastian had her barefoot and pregnant and locked down.

That would be the smartest move that asshole had ever made, after asking Snow to marry him and falling on his sword for her at least. The team was changing and his role in it, hence why he was on babysitting duty for a pampered Princess who thought it was fun to play war photographer for the next six months.

He glanced at the file he had on the passenger seat beside him and gritted his jaw. Princess Lucía Castille was second in line to the throne of Spain. Twenty-eight years old with a degree in photojournalism and political science, she was clearly smart enough. But putting her in the field was a risk to herself and anyone with her, and that was the part he didn’t like.

This entitled woman was willing to risk every member of her team to have her way, with no thought for those around her. Now he was being drafted as a special favour for Jack and Queen Lydia no less, to be her bodyguard.

Bás had asked him weeks ago when the shit was still happening with Snow and her family and he’d refused. But when it ended, so had the idea that he had a choice. The fact the Princess was ridiculously beautiful only made his job harder. Even with her body and hair covered in the part of the country she was travelling to, she was still such a beauty it was hard to ignore.

Which was why, to his utter disgust, she was going to have a fake passport and identity while she did her thing, and he was the stupid schmuck who’d be playing her husband. Partly to ward off the advances of other men, but mostly so he could stay close enough to her to properly protect her, while still adhering to the laws and customs of the country they were visiting.

He still had to share that little titbit of information with the Princess as all their communications had been through email and had gone through Bás. But her father, the King of Spain, had approved it in a bid to give his youngest daughter what she wanted and keep her safe.

Bás had made it very clear he wasn’t to touch Princess Lucía, and by that, he meant fuck her. Which he had no intention of doing. Spoiled little girls weren’t his type, no matter how beautiful they were.

Reaper loved women of all kinds, always had and he respected them. Contrary to what it looked like to others, he didn’t have an ex he didn’t think of with fondness, even if sometimes their names alluded him. He gave respect and love but he never ever gave promises or commitment.

His life was one of free love. Women loved him, and he loved them, and everyone was happy when it ended after a very brief but satisfying spin through the sheets. His blond hair and blue eyes, along with his easy smile and square jaw, helped. Working with Shadow had honed his body into pure muscle. Not bulk, but lean, toned abs and chest and it sure helped him with the chicks.

Not that he paraded around shirtless like Hurricane. No, he used his humour and charm to get women into bed and it often didn’t require any real effort on his part. Which was why Snow called him a heartbreaker, but she was wrong. He never broke hearts. He didn’t have it in him to hurt a woman.

His mother had always said he had a soft side and it had driven his father crazy, almost making him crueller as if to thrust what he perceived as a weakness out of his psyche. Reaper was his mother’s son and it had always been her he’d turned to for guidance. His brother had also followed their mother. He was kind, gentle, much more so than Reaper was, and it drove his father crazy.

A wave of longing for time with his family hit him and he vowed to call them as soon as he could. Caleb and John now had two children, a boy and a girl, a niece and nephew he hardly knew and that made him sad. He had pictures and sent gifts for every occasion, but it didn’t make up for his lack of time spent with them.

Pulling off the motorway he turned towards Whitmore, Essex. He didn’t know this area well, but he’d looked it up and it looked like a picture of an English village found on a chocolate box. Half-timber houses and thatched cottages lined the green, many dating back to the fourteenth century.

It was quaint but it was a disaster for someone like him who needed to slip in unseen and blend into the background. With an active Parish Council and an even more active neighbourhood watch, if the twitching curtains were anything to go by, this was going to be a shit show.

Why in God’s name the Princess had chosen this place was anyone’s guess. Apart from being pretty, it was a nightmare for a security specialist. He took the turn his SatNav was indicating and followed the narrow road, the hedgerow on either side full of life and berries. Stopping twice for an oncoming car, he pulled his Land Rover over as far as he could into the hedge, wincing each time as the thorns scratched the paintwork.

He wasn’t precious about his cars, but he took care of them as he did all his things. If the dirty look the farmer was giving him was any indication, he didn’t approve of what he obviously considered city folk. It had been something of a culture shock for him moving to a small village like Longtown, where strangers were often met with suspicion. It had taken some time and the help of the local landlord but eventually the people of Longtown had accepted the newcomers. Now they were as much a part of the furniture as the sheep, of which there were thousands.

Finally free of the narrow road, he made the turn into what he expected to be a large estate house but when he pulled up at the address he was given, it was to see a small cottage with one of the illustrious thatched rooves. Reaper internally groaned, wondering what in hell the Spanish security office were thinking letting the second in line to the throne live there.

The roof was a fire hazard, and the latches on the windows were barely functional against the wind, let alone against an intruder sent to harm her. Parking, he stepped out of the vehicle and looked around, taking in his surroundings. The more he looked, the more he noticed that his first assessment had been a little off.

Cameras covered the front of the property and he saw the blinking light of an alarm at least. The front door opened, and he was confronted with a vision he hadn’t been expecting. Princess Lucía stood on the threshold in faded jeans and a white shirt tied at the waist, she had white pumps on her feet and her hair in a bun that was meant to look effortless but probably took hours to perfect.

“Well, are you going to stand and stare or are you coming inside?”

The rich, smooth velvety tone of her voice and the strong accent she spoke in, instantly made his trousers tight in the crotch. Snapping out of the shock, he stepped forward and she stepped back, letting him inside her home. The scent of her perfume, which wasn’t the deep seductive tones he’d expected from her but a light lemony, vanilla fragrance, made him want to see if she tasted as sweet as she smelled and he instantly frowned.

When he was fully inside the house, he looked around the space. The front door opened directly into the living room, which was homey with a soft cream couch in front of a lit fire and colourful blankets were thrown over the back in a haphazard way. A glass of red wine was on the wooden coffee table next to a selection of editorials on photography and art.

The kitchen was to the right and held a small table piled high with books and camera equipment, clearly unused for what it was designed. A simple oven and hob with clean counter tops made of oak, the same as the flooring, and white units, made the space feel bigger than it was.

This complete change from what he was expecting threw him, making him irrationally annoyed when he was usually the chilled-out one. Walking around, he took in the room and then turned back to the Princess, who was watching him with caution and something that looked like familiarity but they’d never met. He’d certainly remember having met this woman before. “You usually let in strange men with no identification?”

Her brows rose and he saw her suck in a breath through her nose as if looking for divine patience. “No, but you’re hardly a stranger. Bás sent me your picture and I knew you were here before you arrived, as I had four calls from people in the village warning me a stranger was headed this way.”

“I see.”

Lucía stepped forward and took the glass of wine off the table, holding it in front of her like it would keep her safe. “Would you like some food or wine?”

Reaper shook his head. “No. I ate before I arrived and I don’t drink on the job.”

“Fair enough. Your room is through the back and to the left of the bathroom. Food is in the fridge, help yourself. I have work to do.”