Protecting His Princess (8 page)

“Let’s hope that our things stay in place.” Their
things
being the devices. If security swept the area, they’d find and remove them. Then the hunt for whoever had placed them would begin.

Harris had assured her the design wasn’t traceable to any company or to them.

“Mikhail is spending the day with our mother and his bride’s family. He shouldn’t be in his private quarters.”

“Excellent,” Harris said.

Mikhail’s private living area overlooked the gardens and the garages that housed his car collection. Tucked in the corner, beneath the emir’s private balcony, was the service entrance. Laila and Harris wandered through the gardens.

Laila stopped and pointed to a plant, hoping anyone watching would think she was telling Harris about the local vegetation. “The housekeeping staff arrives at 7:00 a.m. and 7:00 p.m., so it’s unlikely we’ll run into anyone. The door may be unlocked. If not, can you get it open?”

Harris’s eyes twinkled with amusement. “I take great pride in telling you that I can.”

His boyish charm made another appearance. That quality was alluring, and she wouldn’t have expected it from someone in his line of work.

“How do you learn something like that? Did you take a class?” she asked.

“I’ve had some training. Some of it from my family. You’d be surprised how much you can learn from brothers who are mischievous.”

Another mention of his family. He had told her that he was involved with his job to the point that his personal relationships suffered, but it sounded as if he kept his family ties tight. “You never have time for girlfriends, but you make time for family. Isn’t it a matter of priority, then?” The words flew from her mouth before she could censor them.

Surprise showed on his face for an instant. “I’m not sure whether to be insulted or not. But you’re right. It is about priorities.”

Laila adjusted her head scarf over her hair, needing something to do with her hands. “But nothing comes before your job.”

“Are you asking me or telling me? I love the work I do.”

He’d mentioned that before. Laila looked around to be sure they were alone. “Even when it involves dangerous situations and difficult people?”

“The danger keeps things interesting and the people are the best part. Especially when I work with people who are doing their best to make a difference. To make things better or to right a wrong.” His gaze pierced her.

He was talking about her. She didn’t want him building her up as a hero. Her personal motivations weren’t entirely selfless. “I didn’t do this for some greater good. I did it to protect my family and my country, and give myself the chance to have the life I’ve longed for.”

Harris took a few steps away. She followed. “I don’t believe that. You wanted to look out for your family, but after I told you the circumstances, you would have helped us anyway. You’ve never mentioned your desire to seek revenge against the people who tried to kill you with a car bomb. Your motives aren’t centered on your personal agenda or need for vengeance. Your new life and whatever you choose to do with it are a bonus.”

Would she have done this without the promise of a safe harbor for her and her family from the inevitable fallout of Mikhail’s involvement with a terrorist? Did the car bomb have anything to do with her decision? Ahmad Al-Adel was a cruel and evil man. She wanted him stopped. If she had done nothing, and Al-Adel or his network of terrorists had hurt someone else, she would have had a difficult time with that. Guilt would have swamped her, and she’d feel responsible for the consequences of her inaction. “Maybe I’ve spent too much time in America, but doing nothing can be as bad as doing evil.”

“All that is necessary for evil to triumph is for good men to do nothing,” Harris said. “I remember hearing my dad speak that quote to my brothers and me.”

Movement out of the corner of her eye caught her attention. One of the housekeepers was leaving by the service door. “Someone’s leaving! Let’s try the door now.” Harris might have been able to pick the lock, but this was easier.

They moved toward the service door, catching it before it slammed shut. Laila and Harris slipped inside. Her eyes adjusted to the change in light, the darkness of the interior space confining. She could hear washing machines and dryers running. With the extra guests staying in the compound, Laila would bet the machines were seeing much more use. Had Mikhail changed his staff’s hours or increased the number of housekeepers working during his wedding? Would anyone be in his private quarters or were most assigned to the guest suites?

Mikhail had changed many things about the compound. Was she overestimating her ability to guide Harris?

Laila reassured herself. Mikhail didn’t allow video or audio surveillance in his private quarters. They’d just need to watch out for Mikhail’s staff.

Laila crept to the closet on the right and opened it. She held up her index finger for Harris to wait. Going inside the closet, she removed her dark head scarf and tied it around her waist. She took one of the housekeeper dresses from a hanger and slipped it over her own. She wrapped the tan-colored head scarf that matched the housekeeper’s dress over her head.

In the closet were a few other outfits. The largest was a gardener outfit complete with hat to protect the head and neck from the sun. She grabbed it.

When she stepped out of the closet, she didn’t see Harris. Where had he gone?

He appeared around a corner. “I thought it was better if I didn’t wait in plain sight,” he whispered.

“Good idea.”

“That’s a good look for you,” he said.

She rolled her eyes. The housekeeper uniform was meant to differentiate the staff from guests and the clothes were stain proof, the fabric easy to wash, coarse and unappealing. The high neck and length of the uniform covered her dress.

She handed Harris the gardener’s outfit. “Not feminine and it should fit.” Harris quickly tugged it on over his clothes.

“It will be difficult to explain why a gardener is inside,” Harris said.

“Maybe you can say you came inside for extra tools or towels.” She shrugged. “It was the largest masculine outfit in the closet.”

“Let’s aim to not be seen,” Harris said, pulling the hat low over his eyes.

On the left were stairs leading to the emir’s private quarters. She pointed to them, and she and Harris scaled them as quietly as possible. The creaking of the steps had her flinching. Laila paused for a minute to see if anyone would appear to investigate the noise. No movement. They continued to the second floor.

When she was younger, she, her cousins and her brothers would play hide-and-seek in this part of the house until the housekeepers chased them away. Exploring the compound had been a childhood game, and her father’s security team and household staff had been endlessly patient when Laila would attempt to go somewhere she wasn’t allowed. Her game exploring had taught her the compound inside and out.

The hallway was empty and with any luck, most of the staff were cleaning rooms other than the emir’s quarters or working outside. The door at the end of the corridor opened into Mikhail’s living quarters. Laila held the entryway doorknob in her hand. She turned it slowly, opened the door and peered into the hallway.

She could feel Harris behind her. He wasn’t touching her, but he was close, the heat of his body radiating into hers. She should have removed her dress first before putting on the housekeeping uniform. This was nerve-racking work, and she was too warm.

Seeing no one in the hall, she stepped out and kept her head down. Mikhail’s office was ahead on the left. She gestured to Harris to wait and tried the door herself.

It was locked.

She walked back to the service entry where Harris was standing. “It’s locked.”

“I’ll get us in,” Harris said.

He hurried to the door, and Laila stayed close to him, looking left and right for anyone to approach. He removed a small tool set from his pocket and withdrew two thin pieces of metal. He inserted them into the door, and turned them left and right.

Sweat broke out on her back. If they were discovered, they were in serious trouble. Her disguise might fool someone from a distance, but Mikhail would recognize her and jail them both. He was obsessive about his privacy. “Hurry,” she whispered, knowing he was doing his best.

“I’ve almost got it.”

Male voices floated down the hallway.

Laila grabbed Harris’s arm in alarm, terror rocketing through her. The service entry was too far away. They’d be seen. Would they be overlooked? What if it was someone who had worked for Mikhail long enough to know that they didn’t belong?

A closet two doors away was their best option. Praying it was empty enough for two people to jam inside, she opened the door and shoved Harris in first. She climbed into the closet with him.

Her ankle twisted on something, and she fell against him, sending objects clattering. Harris’s hands gripped her shoulders to steady her, and they went stock-still. She couldn’t see, and if she moved, she risked knocking over more items and creating a racket.

The male voices continued to get louder. Had they heard the commotion she and Harris had made?

Laila closed her eyes and tried to place the voices. One might have been Mikhail’s. It sounded muffled through the door, and she couldn’t be sure. The other, she couldn’t place. He didn’t have a Qamsarian accent.

“The last delivery went without issue,” the unidentified man was saying. “I was pleased your team managed the work with competence.”

Mikhail snorted. “You expected something less? My people are trained and capable. Let me get you the documents, and then I must return to my commitment. I didn’t expect you so soon, and if I’m gone too long on state business, my bride will have questions.”

Laila could feel the rise and fall of Harris’s chest, his hard body pressed to hers. As much as she needed distance to breathe and cool off, she dared not move for fear something else would shift and tumble to the ground, bringing Mikhail to investigate.

Her brother sounded annoyed. As the emir, his days were filled with making decisions, giving and receiving advice, and fielding questions. An interruption to his wedding should be expected, at least in part. Who was Mikhail talking to and what important state matter had drawn him away?

Laila heard a door open, likely the door to Mikhail’s office. The voices became too soft to hear what they were discussing.

“Is he talking to Al-Adel?” Harris asked in a whisper.

Fear flickered in her stomach. “I don’t know what he sounds like.”

“The accent isn’t Qamsarian. It could be Al-Adel or one of his Holy Light Brotherhood cronies,” Harris said.

Her calf was pressing into something, and Laila tried to lift her foot and find a clear space on the floor.

“Hey, hey, watch your knee,” Harris said, turning his hips.

She blushed in the dark. She’d forgotten how close her body was to Harris’s. How delicate their position. “I’m sorry. I was trying to find a better way to stand than this.”

She moved and hit something on the floor. It made a noise that probably sounded a hundred times louder to her than it did to Mikhail, if he’d heard it at all.

“If we had been a minute sooner, our bug would be in place, and we could have heard what they are talking about,” Harris said, moving his arms, keeping them around her, but giving her a place to shift.

“They might meet again,” she said.

“Maybe. It sounded like they were concluding a transaction.”

Was he unaffected being this close to her? How long would they be trapped in here? The closet was stuffy, and her double layers were making her too hot. She suddenly felt light-headed. “I need to take off my dress,” she said.

“What?” he asked, incredulity injected into the drawn out word.

“I’m wearing two dresses. I’m sweltering. Between that, the zero air flow and you pressed against me, it’s like an oven in here.” It had taken her thirty seconds to get the dress on, and now she felt like a bungling fool trying to remove it. The rough cloth stuck to the fabric of her dress, pulling both when she tried to draw it over her head.

“I got a quick view of what’s in here before it went dark. We don’t have much room to maneuver. Let me help. If you pass out, we’ll have more problems.”

Harris knelt and his head was by her breasts and then between her legs. She couldn’t see anything, which heightened her awareness of him. Moving could create more noise. She stayed still and tried to think about other things, boring things.

He was shifting items slowly, carefully, and his hand brushed her legs. Torrents of heat rippled up her body. This was a slow, sensuous torture. Her body was overreacting to him. Her inexperience with men was causing this disaster.

Most women would be indifferent to a man touching their leg in an innocent way. Most women wouldn’t care about a man kneeling in front of her. But for Laila, every aspect of the experience was new and exhilarating.

Like that kiss, the kiss that still burned on her lips. Harris couldn’t have known what he was doing was making her hot and achy. He’d think it was the stuffiness, the clothes and the closeness. But it was him. Her body responding to him. She couldn’t stop it.

His hands touched her side, perhaps feeling his way in the dark. Then his hands were on her arms, and he was pulling the dress free of her. Though he couldn’t see her, Laila scrambled to ensure her gown was in place, everything covered. The housekeeper’s head scarf had come off, and she searched for the fabric until she found it, her hand brushing Harris’s.

The sparks of heat jolted her.

“You’re cute when you’re flustered,” he whispered.

“How do you know I’m flustered?”

“Your breathing,” he said. “Short, shallow breaths. Do you feel better without the two dresses?” he asked.

“Yes. I don’t know how the staff works in those things. They are heavy and hot.”

“They probably don’t double up on their clothes while they work,” Harris said.

Of course they didn’t. “They also don’t work in a two-by-two enclosed space pressed up against another person.” The verbal reminder she was thigh to thigh with him vibrated in the air with hot dark tension.