Cap laughed.“I’m not worried, Princess Scottie.”
“Stop.I’m not a—”
“Princess.So you’ve said.”He regarded the cover for a long moment, almost sighed, then scooted over to kiss her cheek.“Beautiful cover, babe.Bring me a piece of cake to the park.I’d love to stay, but I need to get back to the farm.”He backed toward the door.“So, Gardenia Park?Seven o’clock?I’ll bring the cheeseburgers with the works and fries.”His eyes checked hers for confirmation.
“Seven o’clock.I’ll bring you that piece of cake,” she said, his stiff posture tapping her curiosity.“Cap, is everything okay?”She was still learning to read him.In the two years they’d been a couple, they’d not developed a deep relationship between his farming schedule and her workload.Still, she was hopeful.
“Yeah, everything is…yeah…” He paused in the doorway.“You, um, look beautiful.”
“So you said, Cap Henderson.”
Something was up.She felt it in her bones.
Chapter Two
Michael
When he sat in the Port Fressa stands watching the lads on the pitch, everything came right.No longer was he the mourning fiancé, the conflicted son, or the trained protection officer who had nearly failed his prince and the House of Blue.
No, while watching the Cross PF Youth Football Club, Michael felt whole.Yet he couldn’t sit here forever, cheering on the lads with the cold spring winds blowing from the Port Fressa Bay.
He cupped his hands around his mouth.“Come on, lads, you can’t all be strikers.Cross the ball.”
His ten-year-old nephew Phineas ran down the middle of the pitch toward the goal.He had a clear shot.Shoot the ball, Finn.Shoot.Michael leaned forward, arms propped on his legs, a cup of coffee warming his hands.He loved this game.Spent his youth on this very pitch, honing his skills, rising in the ranks.
“Goal!”He jumped up, nearly dropping his coffee.A perfect soaring kick from Phineas.Just like his Uncle Michael had taught him.He gave a fist pump when Finn looked his way with a grin.
From the sidelines, Michael’s brother Evan looked back with a nod.That was brother speak for thank you.
With ten minutes left in play, Michael relaxed, confident the Cross lads earned the win.Named after and sponsored by his ancient family—one as old as the House of Blue—the pitch sat in the middle of Lauchtenland’s vibrant capital city of Port Fressa.The expertly kept field stretched in peaceful defiance against the daily hustle and bustle.
The historic city surrounded the Cross facilities.Behind him, twenty-first-century high rises and luxury flats.In front of him, the six-hundred-year-old Parliament House and Ministry Hall.To his right, the peaks of Perrigwynn Palace, home of the royal Blues.
As a member of the esteemed Cross family, he was a kindred spirit to this older part of the city.His bones were honed from the same sturdy stone as those hallowed structures.
Though recent events seemed to crack his inner core a little.His boss, Gunner Ferguson, Chief of Her Majesty’s Security Detail, ensured him he’d done his job the day a wild man tried to assassinate the Crown Prince of Lauchtenland, Prince John, right after his keynote address to the North Sea Island Nations’ Summit in Brighton Kingdom.
The HMSD kept the attempt undercover.So much so the tabloids and mainstream media never caught wind of it.The crown prince, along with Michael and two of the hotel security guards, were the only ones there when a gunman charged Prince John, as he pulled the trigger.Michael returned fire.The shot was fatal.
Which was why he’d spent his days in the palace basement, running the Queen’s Operations Room and watching CCTV while the Crown’s Investigation Bureau—made up of men in dark suits with tea-stained shirts—launched a quiet investigation.
Today, after six long months, they had arrived at the palace to announce their findings.Michael had headed to the pitch to await his fate.
Speaking of which—Michael glanced in the direction of the palace just as someone plopped down next to him.
“They told me you’d be here.”Gunner hunched against the chill, digging his hands into his dark wool coat bearing the queen’s cypher.“Who’s winning?”
“Depends on your side.”
“I’m on your side.”
“Then give a cheer, mate.The Cross Football Club is on top.The lad dribbling is my nephew, a top-notch striker.”Michael raised his coffee for a long sip.The liquid was starting to cool.“Are you here to fire me?”
Gunner laughed.“I told you to trust the process.The CIB cleared you today with recommendation for commendation.”
Michael glanced at Gunner, and the invisible yoke he’d been wearing broke off.“Thank you, sir.”
“Their findings concluded you’d gone above and beyond your duty.You risked your life to save our future.The House of Blue and the nation thank you.”
