CHAPTER TWO

TOANYONEWALKING by on the white sands of Little Cove Beach, the woman lounging in the hammock was enjoying her vacation. Sun filtered through the palm trees and warmed her skin. A gentle breeze drifted in off the cerulean blue waves, carrying the crisp, salty scent of the Caribbean Sea. A glass of Grenadian rum punch sat within reach on the ground, droplets of condensation dripping lazily down onto the sand.

Esme Clark sighed. It was hard to enjoy her vacation when, just over a month ago, she'd been fired by her former boss and ex-lover. That her dismissal had been delivered so coldly by the man who just a week before had made love to her during a magical night in Paris had made it all the more humiliating.

Sex, she reminded herself grimly. We had sex. That's it.

For a moment, she'd actually imagined herself in love with her boss. She'd known nothing could come of it. He was a prince. The heir to the throne of a small island nation off the coast of Portugal that had done surprisingly well for itself in recent times. Despite the occasional sweet story in the news or the romance novels she liked to read in bed late at night, reality was far crueler. Princes did not marry their bodyguards.

But for the first time in her life, even knowing how it would have to end, she had thrown caution to the wind and succumbed to her own desires. Desires that had been haunting her for the past year ever since she'd been injured protecting Prince Julius during a parade. She'd tried to rise when he'd visited her in the hospital. He'd gently pushed her back, sat by her bedside and chatted with her, even gifted her a copy of one of her favorite books. He'd made her laugh. When she'd looked at him, she'd seen a spark in his eyes, an awareness of her as a woman.

For months, she'd resisted indulging in anything physical. Too bad the same couldn't be said for her emotions. Something had changed between them after that morning in the hospital. It had been small things at first, like him showing up at her physical therapy appointment to see how she was progressing. She had assured herself it was something he would have done for any one of his security detail who had suffered an injury in the line of duty. For all the whisperings of the prince's cold and transactional way of handling his role, he invested in his people.

Except it had been something more. She'd resisted the pull between them for more than a year, the heated glances, the deep curve of his smile when they were alone.

Until Paris. Until one night when she had finally given in. They'd slept together—to think of it in any other terms but that was to invite heartache—followed less than a week later by his summoning her to his office where he'd informed her that he would be looking for a fiancée at the direction of his father, the king. Icy fingers wrapped around her heart still as she remembered staring at him, trying to keep her mouth from dropping open. She'd known when she'd gone to bed with him that it would be a short-term affair at most. What she hadn't expected were the emotions that had stirred: jealousy, hurt, loss.

And then he'd added fury to the volatile churn of feelings inside her chest by saying, in the coldest of voices, that given the circumstances it would be better if she was reassigned.

"It's over, Miss Clark. It has been since Paris."

Anger surged through her. She momentarily embraced it, savored the flash of fire in her veins. Anger was powerful. Anger yanked her away from the dark pit of sadness and self-pity.

And from desire. She kept it buried more often than not. But there were still moments, especially at night, when it would slide through her body, dipping into her dreams and stirring heated recollections of the way he'd slid her shirt from her shoulders, trailing his lips down the back of her neck and over the curve of her shoulder as his hands had cupped her breasts—

Stop.She'd mistaken seduction for tenderness, sex for lovemaking. Yes, Julius had been the best lover she'd been with. So far, she reminded herself firmly. The best lover so far. While she couldn't even begin to entertain the possibility of sex or a relationship right now, telling herself that she would move on helped.

That and the anger. The anger helped most of all.

Fortunately, she'd managed to harness some anger that day. It had kept the tears at bay and strengthened her voice as she'd simply bowed her head, replied "Yes, Your Highness," and savored the satisfying flare of shock in his eyes before she'd turned and walked out.

Instead of reporting to the Royal Security Office, where she would have had to face her coworkers and her father, the head of the royal family's security team, she had gone straight to her apartment in the wing reserved for palace employees. She'd packed up her few belongings, booked a ticket to Scotland and typed up a resignation letter in less than an hour. She'd hit send on the email as she'd arrived at the airport. Her father had called less than five minutes later, and had been calling almost every day since.

Once she would have been grateful for his attention. But it wasn't a personal interest in her. No, it was his concern for the effect her abrupt departure could have on his career that spurred his calls. Not her. Never her.

She'd sent every call to voice mail.

A sigh escaped her lips. She stared up through the fronds of the palm tree as the anger seeped out. Pain trickled in through the cracks in her heart, spreading and weighing her down until she felt so heavy she couldn't move.

Was there something fundamentally wrong with her? Was she destined to go her whole life being unwanted? Her mother had divorced her father and moved back to Scotland when Esme had been ten, then across the ocean to New York to follow a surgeon who had swept her off her feet when Esme was thirteen. Esme's father had been more focused on steadily climbing the ranks from palace gate guard to head of the entire royal family's security. Neither of them had cared much for being parents or the daughter they had created.

Their indifference had hardened her. She'd never allowed herself to be vulnerable again, including the few men she'd dated over the years, two of whom she'd allowed the intimacy of sharing her bed. None of them had been granted access to her heart.

Until Julius. Until he'd looked at her like he'd really seen her and slid past her defenses.

She sat up with a frustrated huff and maneuvered out of the hammock. Why on earth was she wasting time ruminating on the past and the people who had deserted her time and again? She was in Grenada, for God's sake, on the first vacation she'd ever taken. Yes, her heart was still broken. Yes, when she closed her eyes at night she still saw Julius's face, heard him whisper her name in the dark as he'd loved her body and brought her to heights of passion she had never imagined possible.

And yes, when she thought of how cold he'd looked when he'd told her she was being reassigned, how nonchalantly he'd delivered the news of his upcoming engagement, she felt as if someone had punched her in the stomach and left her gasping for breath.

But each day away from the most agonizing moment of her life was a step toward her future. The one good thing to come out of her and Julius's tryst was their walk through Paris hours before they'd finally given in to their shared desires. He'd mentioned seeing her at a café the day before, how relaxed she'd looked.

"I felt like I was seeing the real you for the first time."

"I don't even know who the real me is."

The honesty of her statement surprised them both. Sadness twisted in her chest. How awful to go twenty-six years of one's life and realize you had lived it in pursuit of things others wanted for you.

"Look at me."

She did, struck once more by her body's sensual response to him, a response made even more potent by the rare smile on his full lips. He looked at her with something more than just simple desire. Something that both seduced and frightened her.

"Perhaps there are parts of yourself yet to be revealed. But the Esmerelda Clark I know is an incredible woman."

She'd believed every word. Every single calculated, flowery bit of sycophancy he'd delivered with confident charm.

She swallowed past the lump in her throat and latched onto the positive that had come out of their exchange. She had lived so much of her life for others. Never for herself.

Boarding the plane and watching Rodina fade to a tiny emerald speck on the blue waters of the Atlantic had twisted her battered and bruised heart into a hard knot. She loved her country. The rolling hills offset by towering oak forests, the black sand beaches that gently faded into the ocean, and the towering mountains at the southern end of the country, always capped by snow, had been like living in a fairy tale. Yet the country had its practical side, too. They mirrored their neighbor to the east, Portugal, with their massive olive tree groves and wheat fields. Manufacturing had also steadily grown under the guidance of Julius's father.

She hadn't just loved her country. She'd been proud of it. It was why, when her father had pushed her to go through the academy to become a part of the royal's security team, she'd agreed. She hadn't quite known what to do with herself after graduating from university. And yes, part of her had hoped to please him. But she'd also been proud to serve Rodina, and proud of herself when she'd been assigned to Prince Julius Carvalho's security detail just six months after she'd graduated.

Julius's attempt at reassigning her had nearly killed her. He'd phrased it as a promotion, becoming the leader of his cousin Vera's security team instead of serving as a "simple guard" on his. But she'd seen the reassignment for what it was; an attempt to make a problem disappear. Vera was kind but served in more of a ceremonial role. The girl was young and preferred events like charity luncheons versus trips overseas to meet with leaders on economic issues. Leadership position or not, Esme's days would have been boring, lifeless. A punishment for allowing the one man she never should have fallen for into her heart.

Yet Julius's banishment had also set her free. For the first time in her life, she had no father pushing her to pursue the career he'd always envisioned for the son he'd never had. No mother whose distant elegance had caught Esme in the middle of trying to be the child her father had wanted while striving to be a cultured, well-behaved lady like her mother desired.

She missed Rodina. One day she would return. But she needed to figure out who she was first.

She stretched her arms up to the sky, then leaned down, picked up her cocktail and took a long, leisurely sip. The sweet, tart flavors of orange and pineapple juice mixed pleasantly with the rum. Waves lapped against the beach. The breeze stirred the fronds of the palm trees and created a shushing sound that teased the stress from her shoulders.

After another drink, she let the diaphanous robe she'd picked up at a beachside shop slip from her shoulders onto the sand and moved down the beach. The rum flowed warmly through her veins as she walked into the ocean. Hills covered in palm trees and orchids cradled the cove before sloping gently down into the water.

She had another three weeks in paradise. Living in the palace apartments reserved for staff and having no social life had left her with a comfortable savings account. She would enjoy her time here. And when that time was up, she would move on. She'd overcome rejection before. She would do so again.

With confidence and determination banishing the remnants of her pity party, she moved deeper until water splashed gently against her waist. She sank down, let the ocean close over her head and drifted for a moment in the shallows; blissfully alone, weightless. For the first time in a month, she felt at peace.

She released a breath, let herself sink lower. The swimming survival course had been her favorite part of academy training. It had been one of the rare times she'd let her mind stray and indulged in the fantasy of floating in the ocean on some faraway beach.

Her lips curved up in a smile even as her lungs started to tighten. Perhaps she could get certified in scuba diving, or book a snorkeling excursion...

Awareness pricked the back of her neck as she heard a dim splash. Before she could surface, thick arms wrapped around her body and hauled her out of the water.

Panic pierced her for a brief moment. There was no backup, no button she could push, no phone number she could call.

All she had was herself.

Her training kicked in. She let her body go limp. The man swore as they pitched forward. His grip tightened for a moment, but as they hit the water his hold loosened. She pushed away from him and shot up. As soon as her feet hit the sand, she swiped the water from her eyes and spun. The man faced away from her and was getting to his feet. She lunged, wrapping one around his neck and grabbing the back of his head with her other hand as she pushed him down onto his knees.

Exhilaration pumped through her.

"Why did you attack me?"

"I thought you were drowning."

She froze.

No. It can't be.

Her hold loosened. He stood in one fluid motion, breaking her grip as he turned and wrapped his arms around her, pinning her arms to her sides.

She blinked rapidly, her mind trying to accept the reality of what she was seeing.

"Julius?"

He smiled down at her, and her damned body responded, flutters dancing in her belly as heat crept up her neck.

"Of all the welcomes I've imagined on my trip here, I can safely say that was not one of them."