To Catch a Princess (14 page)

The stupid bastard was going to get them all killed.

…

Tatiana glanced at Peter, noting the tight set of his jaw and the way his hands were clenching the wheel. He took a turn and the tires squealed. She braced her hand on the dash and asked, “What’s wrong?”

He shot a quick look at the rearview mirror and jerked his head toward the back of the vehicle. “We’ve got two paparazzi almost attached to our bumper.” With another squeal and a slight lurch of the car, he took another sharp turn.

She risked a look over her shoulder. The car behind them skidded a bit, the vehicle clearly not as steady as their Bentley. The driver wrangled the car back under control, then to her surprise, whipped around them to pass along the wrong side of the road.

A photographer leaned out the open window, camera in hand, and began snapping photos of them.

“Damn fool,” Peter said and slowed, but the other car kept pace, boxing them in-between their vehicle and the stony wall of the mountain. He slowed down some more.

She was terrified they’d either push the Bentley into the hillside or hit an oncoming vehicle. She was terrified they’d get killed before she and Peter had a chance to set things to right.

“Peter,” she said, her voice tight as she laid a hand on his shoulder.

“It’ll be all right. Trust me,” he said and in that second, she knew she did. With her life and with her heart. God help her have the time to be able to tell him that.

As the paparazzi’s car inched closer, Tatiana gripped Peter’s shoulder and held on as he tried to steer clear of the other car and the rocky hillside.

The driver of the other car didn’t seem to care. He kept on making a dangerous nuisance of himself, but suddenly, on one of the turns, another vehicle came around, heading straight for the paparazzi’s car.

Tires squealed loudly and both drivers tried to stop before impact. The paparazzi’s car went careening to the left and over the unprotected edge of the road.

“Oh my God!” she gasped.

With a quick check to make sure no one was behind him, Peter brought their car to a hard stop near where the other two cars had almost collided.

“Stay here,” he commanded, whipped off his seatbelt, and raced to the ledge where the paparazzi’s car had gone over.

She heard him instructing the driver of the other car to call for assistance, then vanished down the side of the mountain.

Tatiana wasn’t about to sit there doing nothing. She needed to know Peter was safe and not doing any crazy hero stuff.

Rushing to where she had seen Peter disappear, she realized he was climbing his way down to the car, which had clearly flipped a few times. To her dismay, the first lick of flames appeared from beneath the mangled hood. They didn’t stop Peter.

He approached the car, and reached in through the shattered window of the driver’s side to check the driver’s pulse.

He must have been alive because Peter struggled with getting the damaged door open as the flames grew ever larger and grey smoke wafted from beneath the hood.

She couldn’t let him struggle all alone and risk his life.

Disregarding her heels and her designer suit, she raced down the hillside to check on the photographer in the other side of the car.

“Get out of here, Tatiana. This could blow at any moment,” Peter shouted as he yanked over and over on the driver’s door handle in an attempt to free the driver.

The photographer in the passenger seat was moaning and feebly trying to unlock his door when she reached him. Hands shaking, she somehow unlocked the door through the window, and wrestled it open since it wasn’t as badly mangled as the other side. The photographer staggered out and fell to his knees, disoriented. His face was a bloody mess. She slipped her arm beneath his and half-carried, half-dragged him a few feet away, his weight almost too much for her to handle. The other motorist raced down the hillside and took over her burden, helping the photographer away from the burning car.

Peter was still battling the driver side door, ignoring the danger he was in as the fire quickly spread. Every now and then a long lick of flame shot out in his direction and he jerked back. But he kept at it. The driver had roused and was screaming frantically, aware that death was possible at any moment. The fire had engulfed the entire front half of the car.

Her heart pounded in her chest and a chill settled in her core, but she ignored her fear and raced to Peter’s side, earning his worried plea. “Get away, Tatiana! It’s too dangerous!”

“I won’t leave you, Peter,” she cried, and as he braced a leg on the side of the car and pulled, she grabbed hold of another crumpled piece of the door frame and yanked with all her might. Her legs and arms shook from the exertion and awareness of how close death was.

The door finally gave way, and sent them both tumbling backward.

The driver bolted from the vehicle, screaming and beating at his lower pant leg, which had caught fire.

The front tire suddenly exploded from the heat of the fire and its warmth spilled over them in warning that they had to move.

Peter scrambled to his feet and pulled her with him, keeping her in front of him as they tried to reach safety, the fire spreading quickly toward the gas tank.

When the explosion came, it pummeled them with searing heat and shoved them face down into the hillside.

Peter used his body to protect her from the worst of the blast.

The force of it and of his body landing on top of hers drove the air from her lungs and stunned her for a moment. He rolled off her and she sucked in a shaky breath. They both lay there for a moment, recovering. Finally, she sat up and stared at the remains of the car, still engulfed in flames. The heat was strong enough to reach them and her skin stung from its force.

“Are you okay?” she asked Peter, finally finding her voice as her terror at losing him disappeared now that the danger had passed.

He nodded, but grimaced and reached for his shoulder. His hand came away wet with blood. Her stomach twisted and she immediately went to his side and helped him sit up. The explosion had sent shrapnel slicing through his suit and cut open the top of his arm. Thankfully, it wasn’t too deep.

“You’ll probably need stitches.” At the sound of sirens, she said, “Let’s get you back up that hill where an EMT can take a look.”

He stood gingerly, then examined her. “Are you hurt? We hit the dirt pretty hard.”

She looked down at herself, but other than a few scratches on one knee and a suit that was completely ruined, she was fine. Gazing back up at him, she said, “I’m good. You took the brunt of the blast. You saved me.”

He smiled. “Anytime, Tatochka.” He shot a look at the hillside, then held his hand out to her. “Let me help you back up to the road.”

She slipped her hand into his and together they picked their way back along the slope to where their car sat, along with the second motorist’s vehicle, two police cars, and an ambulance.

The motorist was explaining to the police officers what had happened, while the EMT was assisting the two paparazzi from the crash.

As the police caught sight of them, one of them rushed over. Once he’d ascertained that they were relatively uninjured, he peppered them with questions about the crash, but Peter raised his hand to ask for quiet.

“This has been rather traumatic for the princess. I’d like to get her back to her hotel. You’re more than welcome to arrange for an interview there,” he said.

The officer looked between the two of them and the paparazzi, clearly reluctant to let them go.

Peter pressed. “I’m sure the motorist’s account confirms we were not the cause of this accident. If anything, you should be hitting them with an assortment of charges,” he said, and motioned to the paparazzi.

“Yes, yes, of course. If we need anything else, we’ll be sure to reach out to the princess at the hotel, and to you…Mr…?” The officer waited for Peter to identify himself.

Peter reached into his suit jacket pocket and pulled out one of his business cards. As he did so, the officer caught sight of his gun and backed away, his hand going to his own weapon in a reflexive action.

Peter raised his hands in a gesture of surrender, his business card in one hand. “I have a permit to carry. I’m a police officer, and I’m here in Monaco as Princess Tatiana’s bodyguard.”

The officer looked to her to confirm, and she nodded. “He’s here to assist with security during the charity event at the Jewel of Russia There’s no need for concern.”

Relaxing, the officer reached for the business card and Peter put his hands down. With a quick look to confirm what had been said, the officer nodded. “You may go. We’ll call you if we need anything else.”

“Thank you, officer,” Tatiana replied, and Peter echoed her thanks.

In the car, they both sat there for a moment while the reality of what had just happened finally sank in. Peter looked at her, his gaze assessing. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

She thought about all that had happened that day, and not just with the accident. All in all, it had been a hell of a day. An emotional roller-coaster, without any doubt, especially when it came to the man sitting beside her.

He had just put his life on the line to protect her from the blast.

But more important, he had opened his heart, showing her the most wounded parts of him, in the hope that she could understand and forgive. A far more dangerous act than facing a burning car.

She cradled his cheek and stroked her thumb across a smudge of dirt. With an unrestrained smile, she said, “Come on. Let’s go home.”

Chapter 16

Peter had called ahead to warn Tony and was thankful the security chief had put extra guards on the service entrance. A crowd of reporters and photographers was milling there and he had to slowly inch the Bentley ahead, cameras flashing in his face. He parted the crowd with the car until the front wheels were on the Jewel of Russia property and the security guards streamed past them to keep back the throng.

Once he was clear, he sped to the service bay where Tony waited.

The security chief opened the door for Tatiana and his eyes went wide at the sight of her.

Peter had been too busy driving and literally too shell-shocked to notice the condition of her suit and stockings. Sweet Jesus. They were as ruined as his own clothes. Not to mention the bits of twigs and leaves poking out of her disheveled hair.

He must have said something to her, but he couldn’t really hear all that well from the high-pitched ringing in his ears. He approached and Tatiana looked his way and said, “I’m just going to swing by the ballroom and let the designers know I’ll be late for our meetings.”

“I’ll go with you,” he said, and put his hand to the small of her back.

Together they walked to the ballroom, his steps a little stiff. His back had started aching. Her steps were also a bit awkward and lopsided; the heel on one of her shoes was about to fall off.

When she entered the ballroom, the annoyed chatter of two of the designers and their petulant stances communicated volumes. Until, that is, they caught a good look at her condition.

Tatiana lifted her head a notch and approached them, every inch of her still a princess.

The designers hurried over, but she quickly took control. “I’m so sorry to have kept you waiting, but as you can see, my companion and I had a bit of an accident.”

Companion? He arched his brow, matching the bemused glances the designers shot his way.

“If you don’t mind,” she continued, “I’d like to postpone our meeting until first thing in the morning. If that presents any problems with your travel—”

“Not at all, Your Highness,” they replied in unison.

“Wonderful. Shall we say ten a.m.?”

After their confirmation, she whisked Peter out of the ballroom and they headed back to their suite. She kicked off her shoes and he smiled when she took a quick, horrified look at herself in the foyer mirror.

“Why didn’t you tell me I had half a tree stuck in my hair?” she said with a groan and yanked out the assorted twigs and leaves.

“To be honest, I didn’t notice until it was too late. But you still look beautiful,” he said, and meant it. Even in her bedraggled state, she was too gorgeous for words.

“You’re so full of shit. Don’t think flattery will get you out of the doghouse.”

“I’d hoped saving your life might count in my favor.” But then again, she had risked hers to help him free the reporter. Which tightened his gut at how close she had come to being hurt. He walked over and touched her cheek, tenderly wiping off a smudge of mud. “Thank you for helping me at the accident, but I can’t believe you climbed down that mountainside. Or stayed with a car that was about to explode. Promise me you won’t ever risk your life like that again.”

Her lips thinned into an annoyed slash as she locked her gaze on him. “What, so only you can be the hero? Was I just supposed to stand there and watch you get blown to bits? Hell, no!”

“I had it under control,” he said, but quickly added, “Although your help tugging the door open probably saved that reporter’s life.”

“
Definitely
saved,” she countered, then motioned to the bloody cut on his arm. “
I
can’t believe you didn’t let the EMTs patch you up. We should get that cleaned and bandaged.”

“It’ll keep. I’d like to get all this dirt off and maybe soak in the tub for a while. My back is killing me,” he confessed.

“Sure thing. We’ve got no other obligations for tonight, so relax. I’ll call to have dinner brought. I’m not really in the mood to go out.”

“Me, neither,” he said. He shifted awkwardly, not really sure where they stood. She clearly wasn’t as hurt or disappointed in him as she’d been before his confession, but where did that leave them?

Deciding it was best to give her some space to digest the events of the last hours, he jerked a thumb in the direction of his bedroom. “I’ll be in my suite if you need me.”

…

Tatiana watched Peter turn and walk away, a slight limp in his gait. She was worried about him.

He was probably too stubborn to admit he was hurt worse than he was letting on.

Men
. She’d give him a little time to relax, then she’d check in on him.

She hurried to her own suite, eager to be out of her filthy, torn clothes. Even more ready for a long hot shower to rid herself of the dirt from the hillside and the black ash from the car fire.

She quickly disrobed and hand-combed the rest of the leaves and twigs from her hair. Setting the shower as hot as she could, she slipped in and let the water cascade over her, washing away the dirt and the slight aches from her clamber down the hill.

As she stood there, absorbing the warmth of the water, she thought about all the day’s events.

They’d almost gotten blown to bits. She shivered at the thought of what could have happened. But to be honest, Peter’s emotional revelations had been much more dangerous.

She couldn’t imagine what it would be like to see your mother slipping away from you like that. To lose her at so young an age. To be so wounded he chose to be alone, as Peter had for so many years, rather than risk that kind of devastating loss again.

She now understood his reticence to tell her the whole truth. When you carried that kind of painful burden, it must be immensely difficult to let go and share those awful feelings with another. She felt guilty for giving him such a hard time. He was normally such a straightforward guy, she should have known he wouldn’t hide something from her unless it was deeply troubling.

She had been so lucky to have the unconditional love of her family and their support.

She had been so incredibly lucky to have met Peter. To have earned his love.

She had no doubt about the sincerity of that now. No matter how hurt and frustrated she had been with him, deep in her heart she had known his love was true. That he’d never dishonor her. That he’d always protect her.

And that she’d do the same for him.

Which meant it was time to get her butt moving and see how he was doing with that shoulder.

She washed and hurried out of her shower. She brushed her hair, slipped on her robe, and called down to the front desk for a first aid kit for Peter’s arm.

The living room area was empty. She walked over to Peter’s room and knocked. When there was no answer, she looked inside, but the bedroom was still empty.

She was about to check on him in the bathroom when a knock came at the front door.

The supplies she had ordered.

She retrieved them and returned to the bathroom, listening at the closed door. No sound of a shower, adding to her concern. Had he been really hurt? Passed out?

She tapped on the door, but there was no response.

Opening the door, she called out his name.

“Just a second,” she heard a groggy answer, and then came the whir of jets in the oversized tub matching the one in her en suite.

“Okay, I’m decent,” he said, and she stepped in.

She wasn’t sure if a naked man sitting in a tub filled with bubbles could remotely be called decent.

Decadent, maybe.

Sexy as hell.

Totally irresistible.

Decidedly dangerous. Her nipples tightened and her center clenched at the thought of all that she knew lurked beneath those bubbles.

Down girl
. She raised the small medical kit for him to see.

“I thought I could help you take care of that shoulder,” she said, shifting her gaze from his delectable bare chest to the nasty cut on his arm.

She winced at the sight of it, deeper than she had expected and surrounded by deep bruising from the impact of whatever had sliced through his flesh.

“Are you sure that doesn’t need stitches?” She walked over and gingerly traced the edges of the cut. He glanced at the wound and shook his head. “Nah. Some butterfly bandages and it’ll be fine.”

“Tough guy, huh?” She sat on the tub surround and placed the kit there to scrounge around in it for the needed supplies.

She yanked a towel off a nearby rack and dried his arm. Thankfully, it had stopped bleeding. She removed a package of butterfly strips and bent near to diligently close his wound. She used another duo of strips to hold the first ones in place, and then for good measure covered the area with a large waterproof bandage.

“There,” she said and sat back, a satisfied smile on her face.

…

Peter was having a hard time sitting still. For many reasons. But he needed to take it slow. Not push her.

“You look cute when you’re determined,” he teased, relieved that her earlier upset seemed to have faded.

“Don’t think you can smooth talk me,” she warned, but there was no bite in her words.

“Never, Tatiana. I’d never say anything like how beautiful you look fresh out of the shower. Or how satiny your skin is.” He gently trailed his fingers down the side of her face to her neck, where he rested his hand on the sensitive crook with her shoulder. She trembled beneath his touch, and he couldn’t fail to notice the tight nubs visible beneath the blue silk of her robe.

“I’m still not sure what to do with you, Peter.” But even as she said it, she reached out and ran her hand across his collarbone and to his neck, where she mimicked the position of his hand. She stroked her thumb across his throat in lazy circles, driving him nuts.

“So, where do we go from here,
solnyshko moyo
?” He dipped his thumb down to rub along the line of her collarbone, and imagined going further to cup her breasts. To feel their softness in his hands. The tight tips against his lips.

His erection jerked beneath the protective cover of the bubbles. He had squirted the bubble bath into the tub and started up the jets in the hopes of hiding his reaction to her walking in on him. But the bubbles and jets seemed to have a mind of their own as they suddenly traveled to the far end of the large tub.

Leaving it plain to see how he was feeling.

Her gaze drifted down, and her shaky breath told him she had noticed. How could she not?

“I’m sorry,” he said, and ripped his hand away from hers down to cover his lap.

“Don’t be,” she replied, and to his shock, she let the robe slip off her shoulders and down her body to puddle on the floor.

He followed the fall of silk along skin that was even smoother, more perfect than the expensive fabric. Grudgingly, he dragged his gaze back to her face. A peaceful face with none of the hurt or betrayal of that morning. If anything, her gaze was loving when it settled on his features. She reached out and cupped his jaw, took hold of his hand with her other one, and brought it to cradle her breast.

A rough sigh escaped him at the feel of her soft flesh and the hard nub against his palm.

“Are you sure?” he asked, his voice husky from the need deep inside him. Not just a physical need, but an even greater need yawning in his soul.

She sucked in a breath and, beneath his hand, her body trembled. “Yes,” she said with a sharp exhalation, “I’m very sure,” and then she leaned toward him. Covered his mouth with hers and gave him a kiss that had him groaning and nearly coming.

As tender as he wanted to be, he sensed they were both too primed to be patient.

He laid his hands on her waist and urged her into the tub. She straddled him, the softness of her flat belly tantalizing the length of his cock for only a second before her hand encircled him.

He shuddered and gazed up at her. She caressed him and he worked her breasts, tweaking and rotating her nipples. Loving the soft cries that spilled from her lips until just touching wasn’t enough for either of them.

She guided him to her center and poised there for a moment, then slowly sank down until he filled her.

The water was warm, but the heat of her was far stronger. Far more enticing as she rested her hands on his chest, waiting for him. But he didn’t want her to move just yet. Maybe never.

He wrapped his arms around her and drew her close. Held her and skimmed a line of licks and bites along the line of her jaw before kissing her. Making love to her with his mouth as he remained buried deep inside her. Being one with her as he never imagined being one with any other person.

He prayed the closeness would never end.

…

Tatiana opened her mouth to his, accepting the thrust of Peter’s tongue. Tasting him. So masculine and clean. Her every sense filled with him as he filled her, his warm length stretching her. Making her feel complete.

She was lost to him, she recognized that now. No man could ever make her feel this way again. This whole, as if a piece of her had been missing, but was now found.

She loved him.

She jerked away and met his gaze. She had to move. Had to show him just how much she cared for him.

With a shift of her hips, she rose, then sank down again, beginning the rhythm to take them to completion. His hands were hard on her waist, guiding her. His mouth on her breasts as he urged her on with murmured words of love.

“You are so lovely, Tatiana. So precious to me.”

“I…I love you, Peter,” she said, no longer able to keep it in. “I love you,” she repeated with complete certainty.

He gently urged her to stop and brushed back a stray lock of her hair. Cradling her face with his hands, he said, “I love you, too,
solnyshko moyo
. You have brought light into my life. Joy.”

“Oh, Peter,” she murmured, and started to move on him again, pushing them over the edge until they came, calling out each other’s names as their release washed over them.