“And Lady Margaret?” The question was carefully neutral, but I heard the tension underneath.
“Is exactly who and what you think she is, the kind of young woman my family considers appropriate wife material for a future duke.”
The silence that followed was heavy with everything we couldn’t say. Here, in our small apartment, we could pretend that our different worlds didn’t matter, but Christmas at Sandringham would be a harsh reminder of the reality we’d been avoiding—that I was Prince Gregory Edward William Mountbatten-Windsor, fourth in line to the throne, and he was the man assigned to protect me.
“Well,” Bash said finally, his voice determinedly light, “I guess I’d better brush up on my royal protocol. Wouldn’t want to embarrass you in front of actual royalty.”
The casual way he said it, as if embarrassment rather than heartbreak was our primary concern, made something ache in my chest. “You could never embarrass me. Never. That’s not what I’m worried about.”
“What are you worried about?”
The list was endless, and I wasn’t even sure where to start. But it all came down to the same thing. “I don’t want to lose this. Lose myself. Lose you.”
My voice broke a little and Bash instantly stepped closer and wrapped his arms around me. “You won’t. We’ll figure it out.”
I nodded against his neck, wanting desperately to believe him. But as I thought about the formal dinners and carefully orchestrated social events, about Lady Margaret’s expectant smile and my father’s watchful eyes, cold fingers of dread grabbed my stomach.
Three weeks. We had three weeks of this happiness left. Three weeks before reality would come crashing in… crushing everything in its wake.
Because as much as I wanted to believe there was a world in which Bash and I could be together a little while longer, my experiences had led me to accept the bitter truth. I would never be able to be myself, never be able to openly love another man, never be able to be free.
Not while I was Prince Gregory.
21
BASH
Eddie had retreated into the bedroom for a nap, and I stood in our small kitchen and tried to wrap my head around what had happened. Three weeks. Three weeks until I’d be standing in front of actual royalty, helping to keep Eddie safe in the most high-profile environment possible while pretending I didn’t have feelings for him that could compromise everything.
Sweet Jesus, what had I gotten myself into?
The military part of my brain kicked in automatically—mission parameters had changed dramatically, and I needed to adapt fast. This wasn’t campus security anymore, where the biggest threat was someone recognizing Eddie from a distance. This was the big leagues, and one wrong move could destroy my career, and, far worse, compromise Eddie’s safety.
But underneath the professional anxiety was something that scared me even more: the growing certainty that what I felt for Eddie had moved far beyond anything I could control or compartmentalize.
These past few days since North Carolina had been like living in some kind of dream. Waking up with Eddie in my arms every morning, sharing coffee and quiet conversation, falling asleep to the sound of his breathing had become so natural, I’d started forgetting this was supposed to be temporary. That there was an end date on this assignment, on whatever this thing between us had become.
And now that end date was staring me in the face like incoming artillery.
I thought about that moment on the plane ride back from North Carolina, when Eddie had been looking out the window with that soft, content expression, his hand warm under mine on the armrest. The way he’d turned to me with those beautiful moss-green eyes and said something about how different everything felt now, how much more settled he was in his own skin. The intimacy in the small space between us had hit me like a freight train, and I’d realized that I was completely, thoroughly, head-over-heels in love with him.
I’d known I was in deep. Hell, I’d known that since the night he’d kissed me and turned my entire world upside down. But sitting there thirty thousand feet above the ground, I’d understood with crystal clarity that this wasn’t attraction or friendship or even the intense connection we’d been building. This was love—the real thing, the kind that changed you permanently and made you want to rearrange your entire life around one person’s happiness.
The kind that could destroy everything if I wasn’t careful.
Which brought me back to the current crisis: how the hell was I supposed to maintain professional distance for two weeks in England when the thought of pretending Eddie meant nothing to me made me panic?
I needed to get my head in the game. This was a job—the most important job of my career—and I couldn’t let personal feelings compromise my ability to do it well. Time to start preparing like the professional I was supposed to be.
My first call was to Rebecca Hartwell. Obviously, I used a secure line again, like I had done when I’d discussed our Thanksgiving plans with her. “Ms. Hartwell, it’s Special Agent Puller.”
“Ah, yes, Special Agent Puller. I assume you’ve been informed about the prince’s Christmas visit?”
“I have, and I’m happy to accompany him, but I will need a full briefing on security protocols for royal estates, coordination with British security services, and anything else you think I should know before I’m protecting a member of the royal family on their home turf.”
“Yes, I’d imagine so. I can send you an information package through our secure server. Once I have the preliminary schedule, I will set up a secure call to go over everything in more detail. There will be various locations involved, so make sure you study all the blueprints and protocols.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
