Catharine & Edward Read online

  A few hours later, Edward followed Catharine down the hall as they made their way to her apartments. Her phone rang, and he got a brief look at the screen before she swiped to answer it; the caller was another European princess.

  As Catharine’s voice filled the hall, he wondered again if he should quit. He could move closer to his sister and nieces, work with the best men he knew in their own security company or, at the very least, transfer protection detail to another royal.

  He’d been offered a transfer before and had not taken it. He’d wanted to stay near Catharine. Now, maybe, he was better off without her. At least, she was definitely better off without him. If they stayed together, his past would only come back to haunt her.

  It certainly still haunted him.

  “Bea, I know you’re fond of Bocci’s work, but I’m not convinced myself,” Cat said, her voice low, yet still carrying through the old stone halls. “I’ve only worn a few of his evening gowns the last few years, and I doubt I’ll wear more.” A pause. “Well, you didn’t hear it from me, and this is completely a rumour, but I heard he went crazy and started tearing up all of his dresses. I mean, my word, who wants to deal with such a temperamental designer?”

  Edward clocked a member of the kitchen staff further down the hall, who was making his way towards them while pushing a dining cart. Edward shifted closer to Catharine though she was none the wiser. He didn’t recognize the man pushing the cart, and he knew the face of every staff member assigned to the Royal Wing of the palace.

  He never took chances.

  Especially not when it came to her.

  “Yes, well, if the rumours are true, you’d be wise to avoid him.” She laughed softly, the sound hitting his gut. “So true.”

  As the man approached, his face was downcast, as if avoiding the cameras. Edward tapped a code onto the screen of his watch, and agents stationed further down the hall came towards them. Why they didn’t flag him as he passed would be a question for later.

  He saw one agent lift a hand to his ear and Edward knew help was on the way.

  But would it be fast enough?

  He placed his hand on Catharine’s arm and squeezed gently. She gasped as her face whirled towards his, and her eyes widened at the look on his face. “Bea, I’ve got to go. Yes. Love to all, darling. Uh-huh. Buh-bye.” With a fearful whisper she asked, “What’s going on?”

  “Go into the next apartment we pass and stay there until another agent arrives,” he murmured as he let go of her arm. He grasped the doorknob, which contained a built-in fingerprint scanner, something only security and top royals knew, and the door clicked open.

  “This is Marcello and Grace’s apartment,” Catharine hissed. “I can’t just go in.”

  “In. Now,” he said brooking no argument.

  Lady Grace came into the foyer with wide eyes. If she was in there, her apartment would likely be clean of other threats; he had no time to sweep it now and confirm.

  Catharine gave Edward a frightened look that felt like another kick to his gut, but she went inside and he heard the lock click behind her.

  Edward turned and took a first moment to assess the approaching man. Straight, chin-length inky black hair, slightly greasy. He was wearing a white chef’s coat – which didn’t match the coats kitchen staff wore, though he wasn’t sure why – and it was very loose on him. If his arms and neck were any indication, his body was slim. Assuming his coat wasn’t hiding an explosive device, Edward could take him down.

  In the next moment, Edward assessed the cart. The pressed cloth covering it could easily hide someone underneath, and the large, silver-domed plate on top was a convenient, easy hiding place for a gun.

  How the fuck had he gotten into the Royal Wing of the palace?

  By the third moment, Edward had drawn his pistol, pointing it forward but down. “Step away from the cart and put your hands on the wall.”

  The man paused. “I need to get back to the kitchens,” the man said in an exaggerated Italian accent.

  Fake, by Edward’s guess. His eyes narrowed on the man’s face as his brain flipped through a series of mental images, finally landing on the match. As the other agents approached, one went directly into Lady Grace’s apartment. Edward tilted his nose down – a signal to the remaining agent about how to proceed; he saw the man nod his head in acknowledgment.

  “I haven’t done anything,” the man said.

  “Step away from the cart and put your hands on the wall,” Edward repeated.

  “I haven’t done anything,” the man said, now clearly irritated; his accent was now more French than fake Italian.

  “You are not palace staff,” Edward said. “And you’re a fool if you think I don’t know otherwise. Of course you’re a fool, anyway, for sneaking in here.”

  The man began reaching into his pocket, and Edward’s voice went deathly low when he spoke. “Your hand goes in that pocket, I’ll kill you where you stand.”

  His hands paused immediately. “I’m just reaching for my credentials.”

  Edward’s voice rose loud as thunder. “Step away from the cart and put your hands on the wall.”

  The man still didn’t move and Edward nodded. “Right.”

  Edward holstered his gun and went for the intruder. As the intruder’s arms went up in defense, Edward took hold of one. Edward twisted the arm around the man’s back and forced him chest-first to the floor, ignoring his cry of pain which echoed through the hall.

  More agents came rushing down the hall as Edward patted him down to check for weapons. “Status, Bash?” one asked him, using Edward’s nickname. Edward found a security card in the man’s pocket, typically used by royal staff to access allowed parts of the palace, and slid it into his own pocket before cuffing him.

  “Status Yellow. Take him down to holding. I’ll make the call and check on the princess.”

  After the intruder was secured – which included a pair of noise-canceling headphones and a blindfold to prevent his learning any path into the bowels of the palace – Edward stood up and headed for the cart. He used his custom designed phone and a special program to x-ray it, but found no bombs, only small cameras and microphones.

  Fucking bastard.

  Another agent had run a similar scan on the cart itself while Edward was doing his, but found no one and nothing hiding underneath. After a visual confirmation, they both stepped back.

  How the fuck had he got in here?

  Edward scanned the corridors and ceiling, his eyes narrowing on a camera that shouldn’t be there.

  Fucking bastard.

  He told another agent to scan the rest of the halls for additional illicit surveillance equipment, then pressed a few more buttons on his phone and connected with Marcello.

  “Bash,” Marcello answered.

  Despite the fury rolling through him, Edward’s voice was crisp and even. “Sir,” he said, referring to the prince as he preferred. “There’s been a security breach in the Royal Wing.”

  Marcello cursed. “Details. Now.”

  “Male suspect, secured and on his way to interrogation. He was posing as kitchen staff and it seems he was putting mics and cameras around the hallways.”

  “Someone wants to keep an eye on us. Again.”

  Someone had spied on Prince Alexander several months ago, stationing a camera in his private apartments, though that was determined to be an inside job; Edward hoped this wasn’t history repeating itself.

  “You started the sweep to remove them?” Marcello asked.

  “Yes, Sir, I’ve assigned another agent to the sweep, though we could use at least one or two more agents to get it done quicker.”

  “I’ll take care of it.”

  “Sir, you should know that I recognized the intruder as a freelance photographer, whose work is often in the Vallerian Star tabloid newspaper.”

  “Motherfuckers. Does he know you recognized him?”

  “No, Sir. He looks different than he did a few months ago, less sleek-l
ooking and more worn, but it’s him.”

  “Any injuries or casualties?”

  “No, Sir. Straightforward take down. He didn’t fight back, so I didn’t get to punch the asshole but, other than that, it was fine.” Marcello huffed a laugh. “There is one other thing you should know, Sir.”

  “Yes?”

  “Sir, I was escorting Princess Catharine back to her apartment when we came upon him. I secured her in your apartment, where Lady Grace is present.”

  “Shit. Are my fiancée and sister covered right now?”

  With the repeated attacks on the royal family over the last several months, Edward understood Marcello’s concern. “Yes, Sir. Agent Brown’s with her now. She was stationed at the end of the hall and was one of the first on the scene.”

  “How the fuck did he get in? And how many fucking agents missed him before he got to you? Jesus Christ.”

  “We recently completed a shift change, Sir, so he may have taken advantage of that. He also had a security card with him, which I’ve taken custody of now. I’m sure we can find out how he got it in interrogation.”

  Marcello sighed. “All right. Escort my sister back to her room using the passageways and let Grace know I’ll be there soon. Have you told anyone else?”

  “No, Sir.”

  “My father and Alex may want to speak with you at some point. I’ll let them know what’s going on. Stick to my sister; I’ll ask Holmes to oversee the sweep, and put the Royal Wing on lockdown – no one but security and family in or out.”

  “Yes, Sir.” After they hung up, Edward took a deep breath and his eyes once more strayed to the illicit camera in the corner.

  Someone would pay for this.

  He turned towards Lady Grace’s apartment and knocked twice, then entered without waiting for an answer. “My Ladies?”

  Catharine came rushing into the foyer where Agent Brown was stationed, and Grace followed quickly behind her. Edward had an urge to hold Catharine close until the fear in her eyes went away.

  Grace took hold of Cat’s hand and asked, in her refined English accent, “What happened?”

  “Intruder. We’ve secured the area, but you’re both to stay in your respective apartments. My Lady, I’ll escort you through the secret corridors. Lady Grace, Agent Brown will remain here with you.” He nodded to his fellow agent who nodded back.

  “Why can’t we use the hall?” Catharine’s voice trembled when she spoke; he felt his own soul tremble in response.

  It wasn’t the first time he would lie to her and, in his line of work, it also wouldn’t be the last. “Security protocol, My Lady.”

  Catharine nodded, then turned to Grace and gave her a hug. “Are you all right?”

  Grace smiled. “Perfectly so. Don’t spend another moment worrying about me.”

  “Prince Marcello will be up soon, Lady Grace,” Edward assured her.

  Grace nodded as she pulled back from Catharine. “I’m sure he will. Are we allowed to travel to other rooms in the Royal Wing?”

  “It’s better if you remain in your apartments, Lady Grace. Royal Protection agents are securing the other royals as we speak. I’m sure we’ll have more information for you soon.” He turned to Catharine, who stood with her arms wrapped around herself. She seemed so fragile. “Are you ready, My Lady?”

  Catharine nodded and gave a wobbly smile to Grace before heading for the nearest secret door. “Allow me to go first, My Lady.”

  She nodded again and he accessed the door using the thumbprint scanner. After a cursory glance down the softly lit hallway, he nodded to Catharine and stepped forward.

  They walked without speaking, the only sounds her soft heels and uneven breathing. He took hold of her hand, for his own comfort as well as her own. He wanted to kiss her, and reassure her.

  But that wasn’t his job.

  So, he remained alert as they turned corners and approached forks in the path. The passageways should be safe, though Edward couldn’t help wondering if they truly were. Was this how the intruders had gotten inside and obtained that security card?

  Having memorized all of the passages – a requirement for everyone in the RPS, or Royal Protection Service – they soon arrived at Catharine’s apartment. He used his thumb on another scanner and they entered her foyer.

  He heard her let out a sigh of relief and turned to look at her. She was a little calmer, a little more put together.

  A little more her.

  Then she stepped towards him and planted her face against his chest. Her arms wound around his body, locking against his back.

  He had no choice; he hugged her back.

  His hands rubbed along her spine and brushed the edges of her soft hair. “Are you all right?”

  Her voice was still too small, too unsure. “I’ll be fine. If you need to leave, I understand.”

  “I’m staying here with you.”

  She blinked as she looked up at him. “Oh. Good.” She stared around the foyer for a few moments, her brows furrowed. “I don’t know what to do.”

  “We’ve taken care of the threat; you don’t need to worry about that.”

  “No, I know that. I mean, what do I do now?”

  He knew what he’d like her to do, but didn’t say it. “Do you have any work?”

  “What?” Her voice was breathy and sweet. He shoved back thoughts of hearing that breath in his ear while he made love to her.

  “You were on your way back here to do some work, weren’t you? Perhaps to help Miss Campo with her dress?”

  “Yes. I was. Right. Yes, I’ll just go do that.”

  “My Lady?” He tightened his arms around her for a moment as she turned to go, and she paused.

  “Yes?”

  Knowing he shouldn’t, but needing the feel of her anyway, his hand slipped up to hold her face, his thumb gently brushing her cheek. “You were never in any danger.”

  She looked him straight in the eye for several seconds, then sighed and looked away. “It seems I’ll always be in danger when I’m around you, Edward.”

  Fuck it all, but he liked his name on her tongue. “Catharine.”

  Her eyes flipped back to him, brows raised; he rarely spoke her real name. It was strictly against protocol.

  “I can be reassigned.” He’d suggested this once before, after their heat-inducing first kiss months ago.

  “Is that what you want?” she whispered.

  “What I want doesn’t matter.”

  “It does to me.”

  Another punch in the gut. If only he could act on how he felt.

  If only.

  “What do you want, My Lady?”

  “You.” The words were so soft, her voice so low, he could have imagined hearing them if he hadn’t seen her lips move.

  He hugged her tighter, and her breasts brushed against his jacket. “Say it again.”

  She shook her head. “Edward.”

  “Say it again.”

  “I want you. God help me, but I do.”

  God help him, too.

  With a low growl he pulled her mouth to his. Her hands fisted in the lapels of his jacket and her eyes closed.

  The kiss was hot, wet, and deep. She moaned and he pushed her against the wall, one hand inching down to grip her ass.

  “Edward,” she said while catching her breath. “Please.”

  His cock was hard and nestled between her thighs, his head was buried in the curve of her neck. Her scent now a whisper on his skin, as his was on hers. “I’m sorry.”

  She stiffened against him. “Sorry for what?”

  “I shouldn’t keep encouraging this.”

  “Oh.” Her body sagged a little and he pulled back to catch her eyes.

  “That doesn’t mean I haven’t wanted to kiss you, or that I haven’t enjoyed it when we have.”

  “Oh,” she said, a little brighter. “Really?”

  He nodded. “But it’s not right. I have to protect you, not think about doing dirty things to you every two s
econds.”

  Her eyebrows shot up. “You do?”

  “Actually, probably not.” At her slight pout, he added, with a small smile, “It’s really every fucking second of the day.”

  She licked her lips, and his cock got even harder. “Jesus, I think you like that.”

  She pulled her plush, lower lip between her teeth and nodded shyly.

  Suddenly, the bubble of the moment broke for him. He couldn’t forget his job, his sworn duty to protect her. She could have been physically harmed if the intruder had been someone more devious.

  “Why did you go all serious again?” she asked, noticing his grin had fallen away.

  He brushed his thumb over her cheek. “We can’t do this again.”

  “We can.”

  “We can’t.”

  “We can.”

  He grinned again, he couldn’t help it. She sounded just like the spoiled princess she was, always used to getting her way. “Technically, I suppose we could, but we shouldn’t.”

  She looked down, then back. “I know.”

  He memorized her beauty in that moment. Every fleck of color in her eye, every sweep of blush and shadow on her face. The naked vulnerability also etched there made her even more beautiful. He wondered what she saw reflected in his own eyes.

  Both of them wanted the other, maybe even needed the other. What could you do when a nation, social class, and thousands of years of tradition stood between you?

  His phone rang, breaking the trance between them, and he stepped back to answer it.

  “Yes, Sir?” he asked, recognizing Marcello’s number.

  “Are my sister and fiancée secure?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “Where are you now?”

  “With Princess Catharine, Sir.”

  “I’m sending Brooks to cover for you. I want you down in interrogation.”

  “Has he spoken yet, Sir?”

  “Haven’t given him a chance as I’m letting him stew for a while.”

  “Very good, Sir.” As soon as he hung up, Catharine peppered him with questions.

  “What’s going on? Is everything okay?”

  His hand reached up and tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “Everything’s fine.”

  “Edward.” She let out an exasperated sigh. Just as she opened her mouth to say something else, the secret door to her apartment clicked open again. Edward stepped away from her just as a grim face came into view.