Protecting The Princess - Nadine Millard Page 0,39

more her heart broke.

Not just because she’d fallen in love with this man, this man who had only been with her because Christopher had commanded it.

But her wonderful adventure, her quest for independence and anonymity was a farce. Christopher had known.

And Harriet should have known; there was no such thing as freedom. Not for a royal.

She was humiliated. And heart sore. And suddenly, desperately tired.

She wanted to go home where she could lick her wounds in peace. She didn’t even want to confront Christopher. She just wanted to lock herself away and cry.

Perhaps if Alex had come at Christopher’s request, she would return to England with him after all. Some distance would do her the world of good right now.

Distance from Christopher and his unyielding management of her life.

Distance from Jacob.

Harriet swallowed a lump in her throat.

“So, you’re some sort of secret agent, then? Working for my brother?”

It sounded impossible but then, when it came to Christopher and his iron control over his responsibilities, it didn’t really surprise her.

“Yes.”

She appreciated the simple reply. And the silence that followed it. She couldn’t listen to apologies or platitudes now.

“How? How could this be? Does my father even know about you?”

To Harriet’s amazement, Jacob shook his head.

“Prince Christopher is our only commander. We are his personal agents.”

She was bewildered and even momentarily distracted from her tempestuous emotions.

“But, where did he find you?” she asked.

His smile was miniscule and fleeting.

“I was destined for the army. Started off there, in fact, As the second son of the Count of Dresbonne, my father had high hopes for me.”

Harriet felt another jolt of shock. He was an aristocrat. Yet she never saw him at Court. She would have remembered.

“Unfortunately, I had a problem with authority, but my skills were such that they drew the prince’s attention, and I’ve worked for him ever since.”

A vague memory flashed briefly in her mind. A golden-haired boy soldier with a mischievous grin being dressed down by the captain.

“I saw you,” she blurted. “As I child. I saw you in uniform. In the courtyard.”

Jacob didn’t say anything. What did it matter, in any case? She hadn’t known him as a child. But she knew him now. And he knew her. More than anyone in her life.

Remembering the last two weeks, the things she’d told him about herself, the way he’d held her and kissed her—it made her sick with shame.

She’d even slept on the same bed as him. If he decided to tell tales about her, it would be all over the palace and then the rest of the city before she could blink.

And whereas thirty minutes ago she would have never thought him capable of doing something like that, Harriet realised that she didn’t know this man. Not at all.

Because he wasn’t who he said he was. And she wasn’t important to him. She was a job. A chore he’d had to do for his prince.

She dropped her gaze to her tightly clasped hands not sure what to think, what to feel. Embarrassment waring with anger. Hate waring with desperate sadness.

“Harriet.”

Just that one word, just her name, barely above a whisper, was enough for Harriet to know that she quite simply didn’t have the strength to talk any more. Not about this. Not about anything.

If he touched her, if he tried to comfort her, or apologise, or feign any interest in her or how she was feeling, she’d lose all control. She’d sob, and scream, and humiliate herself even more.

Gathering what was left of her tattered dignity, and drawing on years of being brought up to be the absolute crème de la crème of a Society lady, Harriet drew her eyes up to look into his.

She refused to see despondency in their blue depths. Refused to think that was sorrow or concern or—her foolish heart stuttered—or tenderness.

“I want to go home.”

He frowned slightly. Maybe at her tone. Maybe at the fact that she didn’t comment on his detailed explanation. Harriet didn’t much care.

And she didn’t want to give him the chance to ask.

“I realise that you won’t let me go alone, since my brother has presumably hired you to keep me safe and, if not well, at least alive.”

His answering grimace was enough to tell her that she was at least partly right.

“I shall be ready to leave within the hour.”

Harriet stood, pleased that she sounded and appeared poised when she felt anything but.

Wordlessly, she picked up her bags, placed them on the cot and began filling them.

Jacob stood, too, she