Those gorgeous lips coming closer, the sheer size of him scary and wonderful as he leaned down. God, he was everything my mother had warned me about, big and brutish and definitely not of royal blood. I could see it in that hard, curving chest, in the sculpted shape of his forearms. He was made to till fields and ride horses and fight his country’s enemies. Real work, not signing documents and endless talking. He was my polar opposite, as rough as I was refined and God, I wanted him.

And then suddenly he stopped. He put both his hands on the doorframe above our heads with a heavy thump thump. His knuckles turned white. He was grabbing it so that—

So that he wouldn’t grab me. God, the look in his eyes, a man on the very edge of control: was I doing that to him?!

He let out a low growl that vibrated right through my body...and draw back from me. Why?

There was something in his eyes, something I’d glimpsed back in the desert when I’d asked about his dog tags. Pain so deep and jagged he couldn’t hide it. My chest ached for him. What happened to this man?

He looked away and the spell was broken. Reality came rushing back and I flushed scarlet. He was from a different country...and a whole different world. I could hear my mother’s voice in my head. What on earth came over you? That was the part that shocked me most: I’d been as out of control as him. And now what? What did I say to him?

“Your Highness,” said Emerik, emerging from the darkness. I jumped about a foot in the air. He has at least a thousand different ways of saying Your Highness. This was his I’m onto you and I disapprove tone. He’d used the same one when I was seven, and he’d caught me sneaking jelly beans from the palace kitchen. I carefully avoided his eyes and I didn’t dare look at Garrett, either.

Jakov and Caroline joined us and we headed towards the restaurant. There was a line to get in. Emerik looked at it in bemusement, then in exasperation. Like me, he’d never had to wait in line to get into anywhere. But I joined the end of the line, then gave him a look. We’ll wait politely like everyone else.

“I can’t call you Your Highness in there,” muttered Garrett after a few moments. He didn’t look at me as he said it. Both of us were still stumbling and awkward after that nearly-kiss.

“Kristina will be fine, Mr. Buchanan,” I told him. “But I have to call you Garrett.”

Now he turned to look at me, blinking in shock. “Aw, hell. You don’t need to—”

“I insist.” I tried it out. “Garrett.” I nodded to myself: I loved the way it sounded: so strong, so...cowboy.

He looked down at his boots for a few seconds, as if no one had called him by his first name in a long time. But then he rallied. “Kristina,” he said in a low growl.

I flushed and caught my breath. I hadn’t thought about how my name would sound in his throaty rasp. When people announce me as Princess Kristina, it sounds light and clean, like snowflakes falling on a Danish village. But when Garrett said it, he rolled the r in a way that sent a shiver right down my spine and then rasped out the tina so that it throbbed right in my groin. That Kristina wasn’t snowflakes and innocence.

I swallowed, throwing glances up at him as we neared the restaurant door. The tension between us was back, every tiny brush of his shirt sleeve against my arm making my skin throb and prickle. He’d pulled back from the kiss but both of us were still one touch, one word away from just grabbing the other.

I took a deep breath...and we went to dinner.

I had no idea what a rib shack was but, as soon as we got inside, I loved it. It was loud and dark, lit only by dangling bulbs and the occasional neon beer sign. The tables and chairs were bare wood, the floor was bare boards and everyone was gnawing meat from shining bones, dripping with dark sauce. The most amazing smell filled the room: succulent pork and beef and the heady tang of that dark sauce. My mouth started watering immediately.

“Your Highness,” whispered Emerik in my ear. “I’m not sure that this establishment—”

“Don’t call me Your Highness,” I told him. “And it’ll do perfectly well.”

Caroline whooped and pointed. “They have a jukebox!” We pooled our loose change and she queued up a full hour’s worth of American pop. She loved everything about this country. While I’d been getting changed, she’d hit the tiny store next to the rib shack and loaded up with US candy bars and magazines.

We ordered groaning platefuls of steaming ribs, sticky with sauce, bowls of French fries and mac ‘n cheese, coleslaw and grilled corn, all washed down with icy, crisp beer. None of us had eaten since dinner on the plane, the previous night. We demolished everything.

It was the first time we’d been able to relax and all of us needed it. I saw Garrett’s broad back lose a little of its tension and even Emerik relented and unbuttoned the top button of his collar. Caroline, who seemed to see this whole thing as an adventure, laughed and chatted and spun a story to a neighboring table about us being tourists from Italy. It made me wish that I could be as free and fun-loving as her. The whole experience was a reminder of everything I’d missed out on in life: food and beer with friends, being able to just wander about casually and enjoy life, without having everything pre-planned and security checked and assessed by Aleksander and his PR people.

I was on the run. But in some ways, it was the freest I’d ever been.

Garrett looked amazing. The new shirt he’d put on was blue and black plaid and it set off his tan skin and those amazing eyes. He’d rolled up the sleeves and my eyes kept being drawn to his thickly muscled forearms as they rested on the table. Every time I looked at them, I imagined myself being lifted right off my feet—it would be so easy for him. Lifted and pressed up against a wall, or tossed on his bed, my jeans peeled down my legs—

I forced myself to look away but it was no good. If I looked at his collar, I imagined myself sliding my hands down under his shirt, tracing the hard slabs of his chest. If I looked at his wide shoulders, that brought home the raw size and power of him, how he’d loom over me, blocking out the light as he lowered himself between my thighs. And if I looked up into those clear blue eyes….

If I looked into his eyes, I was lost.

What had nearly happened in his doorway had changed everything. All my fantasies had gone super-high-definition, so real they left my heart racing and my breathing tight. Worse, I knew it could have happened. Could still happen, if I just—

No! Garrett belonged in this world of pickup trucks and ribs and beer and friends. I had to keep reminding myself that I was only visiting. “Do you have any ideas for getting us home?” I asked.

Garrett shook his head. “Nope,” he rumbled. “But now you’re safe, I’m thinking on it.” He dropped his eyes as soon as he’d said it, as if the idea of him thinking was ridiculous. My chest contracted in sympathy and then hot anger flared up inside: people had been underestimating this man for so long, seeing him as a big, dumb brute, that they’d even gotten him believing he was stupid.

Caroline grabbed my wrist. “Dance!”

I was still saying what when she hauled me out of my seat and pulled me stumbling into the open space by the bar. “Dance!” she said again.

And she started dancing to the music from the jukebox. I stared. It wasn’t like any dancing I was used to but then I’d only ever danced at formal balls.

“What?” asked Caroline. “This is how they do it here.”

I watched at her circling hips and thrusting ass. “Are you sure?” But I joined her. The opportunity was too good to miss. I never got to dance at home. Certainly not like this.

“So. Garrett.” Caroline’s eyes were gleaming expectantly.

I flushed down to my roots. “What about Garrett?” I loved the sound of his name.

“Don’t ‘what about Garrett’ me, you’ve been looking at him like you wanted to hoist up your skirts and climb on top of him.”

I went even redder. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“What happened out in the desert?”

“Nothing!”

“Has anything else happened?”

I thought of that moment in his doorway. “No,” I lied.

“He’s from Texas,” said Caroline dreamily. “That’s like America, only more so.”

“What about you?” I asked, desperately trying to change the subject.

She gave me a sly look.

“Someone back home?” I asked, excited. I ran through the possibilities in my head. I hoped it wasn’t Jakov, because I’d seen him looking with puppy-dog eyes at Simone, one of my father’s maids.

“Maybe,” she said airily. And we both grinned. This is what I love about Caroline: she makes me feel normal. She has to call me Your Highness when other people are around but when we’re in private she’s like a sister.

Then I glanced at Garrett...and swallowed. His eyes were locked on my hips as they gyrated, on the denim stretched tight over my ass as it thrust back and forth. I’d never seen him look quite so...hungry. And I felt the answering swell of heat in my core, sliding down to my groin to turn into slick wetness.

“That doesn’t look like ‘nothing,’” whispered Caroline in my ear.

I flushed again and led her back to the table. Garrett’s eyes tracked me the whole way, the heat of his gaze burning through my clothes and melting my core. I’d never been looked at that way before. Most men didn’t dare to lust after a princess so openly, or they thought I was too noble, too innocent and sweet.

Garrett looked at me as if I was special, as if I was up in the clouds. But underneath there was that fierce, lashing heat that wanted to grab me and drag me right down to earth, pin me with a kiss and rip my dress off and—

Our eyes met. Locked. I caught my breath. We stared at one another for one, two, three beats of my racing heart. Then we finally managed to tear our eyes away.

Garrett leaned across the table towards Emerik. “So...you’ve guarded Kristina for a long time?” His voice was still gruff, but I could hear him trying to sound friendly. He was doing his best to get along with the older man, and I gave Emerik a sharp look: play nice!

“I’ve been with her family for three decades,” said Emerik. “It’s a great honor.” He still sounded a little stiff, as if a conversation with Garrett was beneath him, but he couldn’t stop the emotion creeping into his voice on the last few words. It really was a great honor for him.

“And Jakov joined us just a few months ago,” I told Garrett. “Graduated top of his class in the army. The youngest ever to qualify as a royal guard.”

Jakov flushed, nodded his thanks and excused himself to go to the bathroom. I sighed as I saw Emerik’s hate-filled gaze follow him all the way there.

Garrett saw it too. “What am I missing? He seems like a good kid.”

Emerik gave him a disparaging look. He was too polite to speak his mind, of course. So, with another sigh, I explained.

“Jakov was born in Lakovia,” I said. “But his parents are from Garmania. Jakov was one of the first people with Garmanian heritage to enroll in the army. And the first to become a royal guard. It was hard for him: he had to train alongside men whose families had been killed in the war with Garmania. He still gets hate mail, every day, from people who see him as the enemy. But having him guard me is such an important symbol. It sends a message that it’s time to move on.”

Emerik scowled, got up and stalked away.

“But a lot of people aren’t ready to move on,” Garrett rumbled, watching him.

I nodded. Emerik never said anything openly against Jakov but everyone could feel the hate and distrust bubbling away just under the surface. They were rarely paired together: it just happened that they were on shift at the same time on the plane and now they were the only two guards left. “We can’t go back to all that,” I muttered, half to myself. It was warm in the rib shack but my skin suddenly felt chilled by memories of cold, damp stone. “I just want all of us to live in peace.” Then I shook my head and gave a tired laugh. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to get preachy.”

But Garrett shook his head. “Didn’t sound preachy. Peace is good.”

I could hear the pain in his voice. Peace was good...because he’d seen enough of the alternative. Our eyes met and he quickly looked down at the table. He already knew what I was going to ask him.

“Everything you did on the plane and on the highway...you must have been a great soldier. Why did you quit?”

He still wasn’t looking at me. “I didn’t quit. They discharged me,” he said at last. He spoke as if there was a huge weight pressing on his chest.

Without thinking, I reached out and put my hand on his. I couldn’t stand to see him hurting like that. “What happened?” I whispered.

“A mission went wrong,” he said. “We lost some people.” Then he shook his head: enough. His eyes flicked up to meet mine and there was such anger there I actually drew back, shocked. But it wasn’t flaring out at me. It was all turned inward, tearing away at himself. And I could feel how his whole body had locked up tight with emotion.

It wasn’t that he wouldn’t talk about it. He couldn’t talk about it. God, there was so much going on under the surface of this gentle giant, so much people didn’t see. “I’m sorry,” I said.

He nodded. Looked away, unable to meet my eyes.

I thought of darkness and cold stone. My own memories of war and the nightmares they still brought. Garrett was my opposite. But what if we were more similar than either of us had thought?

* * *

That night, I lay in bed unable to sleep. I tried one of the trashy magazines Caroline had lent me but eventually I slapped it down on the bedside table, nearly knocking over the lamp. There was too much going around my head: the plane, the attack on the convoy, Garrett….

I squeezed my eyes shut. No! Don’t think about him sitting on the bed behind you, the mattress creaking under that big body. Those strong arms wrapping around you, making you feel safe. His lips at your ear, that deep Texas rumble as he tells you what he’s going to do to you….

I opened my eyes and saw my pile of suitcases in the corner, each with their royal crest. When all this was over, I had to go back to the palace and be the Princess my people needed. I had to help my father, learn from him and, one day, take the crown and rule. I’d marry some man my mother found for me, someone suitable. That was my job.

I glanced at the bathroom. What I really needed right now was a bath but the motel room only had a shower. At the palace, I had a big corner tub that I could happily spend a full hour in, the room lit with candles and the water fragrant with a special scented oil a local craftswoman made.

I closed my eyes but, as soon as I saw darkness, I started to feel the cold stone under my hands, the damp in the air wetting my skin. That feeling of being utterly and completely alone. It becomes overwhelming in my nightmares but it’s there even when I’m awake. It’s always there. When I’m standing on a balcony, waving at a crowd. When I’m giving an interview on TV. Even when I’m in a room full of people.

Except today—God, was it really only a day since I first woke up on the plane? Today, for a brief time, when he’d held me in his arms...I didn’t feel alone.

After a long time, I slept. The nightmare came, as I knew it would. I was in the cell, running my fingers over the rough stone again and again just to give my mind some texture, some stimulation, in the absolute blackness. The lack of sound was the worst. No birds, no wind in the trees, nothing.

I began to panic, the sound of my own frenzied breathing bouncing off the walls and reflecting back at me, making me panic even more. But this time...something was different. I was taking huge gasps, my mouth wide, but I wasn’t getting any air—

I woke up and looked straight into the face of the man from the plane. I’d fallen asleep with the lamp on and its glow lit up his pale, tight skin, his hate-filled gray eyes.

It isn’t over! Somehow, he’d found us again. I screamed...but nothing came out.

He was straddling me, his weight on my chest and his hands wrapped around my throat. His thumbs were crushing my windpipe. I couldn’t breathe...or make a sound.

I heard something outside. Voices. Garrett and Emerik, right outside my window! Help me! I thrashed with my arms and drummed my heels on the bed, but it made almost no noise.

Garrett and Emerik kept talking, oblivious.

I screamed but still nothing came out.

My head started to feel light. I was dying.

And they didn’t know anything was wrong.