CHAPTER THREE
Friday, 4.48 p.m.
‘MS WYNTER?’
Elsie glanced up and stiffened. It was one of the elite force who protected King Felipe.
‘Do you mind if I have a quiet word?’ the guard asked. He had an earpiece and no doubt a gun concealed beneath that black jacket.
She glanced at the other passengers patiently waiting in the airport arrivals lounge and tightened her grip on her mandolin case as she recognised another plain-clothes guard a short distance away. The last thing she wanted was to attract attention. Better to answer softly, as if this weren’t a worry at all. ‘What about?’
‘If you’ll follow me, there’s an office...’
Conscious of an audience, Elsie nodded and followed him. Nerves proliferated. But she wasn’t about to create a scene. She’d suffered too many in the past. Public humiliation? Scorn? Rejection? She’d checked those boxes in the past and she wasn’t about to tick them again in front of all these people. But the moment she got in private with this guard? Her words weren’t going to be quiet.
He’d referred to her as Elsie Wynter. But on her official documents she was still Elsie Bailey. Clearly someone had done their homework. But she knew that already. It was why she’d been banished the last time she was here.
The guard led her through a door marked ‘airport security’. Nerves exploded now. Was he taking her to the strip-search room? But they turned left, went through another door, then another and were suddenly out on the tarmac again. The warmth of the late afternoon was balmy but Elsie shivered. Anxiety did that to a person.
A large black vehicle was parked only a foot from the door, which meant there was no way to go around it. Another ‘casually’ dressed guard held the rear passenger door open.
She stared. ‘Where are you—?’
‘Please, Ms Wynter. I assure you, you’ll be kept safe.’
Kept safe? From what?
‘It’ll only take a few minutes,’ he added.
Elsie saw the sideways glances from the few airport staff still on the tarmac. Holding tight to her case, she climbed in the car. Was someone else already in there? No. The back seat was all hers. Behind her the door closed. Less than a second later the car moved. Elsie put her case down and automatically fastened her seat belt. It was less than two minutes since the first guard had approached her and now she was being driven who knew where? Only her pulse skidded because she knew already. They were on the road that led straight to the palace.
Why?That was the real question.
Celebratory banners hung above the picture-postcard cobbled streets but she couldn’t appreciate the beautiful villas of the abundantly wealthy nation. Not when she could see the palace looming large. It had begun its life several centuries ago, built as a fortress to protect the rulers and to imprison those who threatened their power. Over time various additions had been made until it reached peak glorious palace. But there was no getting away from its foundations—it wasn’t just a prison, but a dungeon.
They drove through the gleaming gates. She’d never thought she’d come back, let alone be all but kidnapped like this. Her anger built at the high-handed treatment. There was only one person to blame.
‘If you’ll follow me,’ the guard said when he opened the door.
Despite her loose-fitting jeans and cotton cropped jumper, Elsie felt hot and sticky. She blew a stray strand of hair from her face as the guard led her along the snaking passage. In the menacing, oppressive silence her temper rose. She’d not done anything wrong.
The guard opened the door and stood aside for her to enter. ‘Please wait in here.’
Next second she was suddenly utterly alone in a vast room designed to intimidate. On her previous visit she’d been in relatively public rooms with light, luxurious decor and all modern amenities. In this room there weren’t even any windows. There were high vaulted ceilings, tapestries on the walls and uncomfortable-looking wooden furniture. There were sconces for candles though the room was currently lit by that marvel of modernity, electricity—but it might as well be three hundred years ago when the rights of women were non-existent and one man could order everyone to do whatever he wanted. It might as well be a prison cell. In fact, Elsie decided it was one step away from a medieval torture room.
The heavy door opened again as if by magic. It wasn’t. It was one of the two armed guards waiting outside. But then...
King Felipe Roca de Silva y Zafiro swept in.
The door shut. Silence. She wanted to berate him but she wasn’t just frozen, she was transfixed. Bereft of brain, her body was immobile. She couldn’t look away and she really needed to.
He wore a black suit like his security agents but, where theirs hung slightly loose to hide weapons and allow movement, his perfectly hugged the sleek lines of his fit body. His jawline was sculpted—all sharp edges. And she’d forgotten how tall he was. Tall, tense, furious. And staring right back at her. Through her. The intense expression in his eyes was unrelenting, unforgiving, unyielding.
Breathing got tougher. The air was hotter, thicker, and this massive room now felt small and smoky. Every emotion bubbled to the surface. Upset. Hurt. Isolation. Longing. All of them slipped from her control. But the worst reaction was the utterly forbidden, uncontrollable want. King Felipe was the most handsome man she’d ever met. Not just handsome. Handsome she could cope with. He was compelling—the only man to stir her into temptation. Not just temptation. He’d roused the kind of selfish greed that had destroyed her family. He terrified her. And she was furious about it.
Elsie watched as he walked too close before he stopped. But she didn’t step back. She wasn’t a citizen of this country. He wasn’t her king. And she point-blank refused to be intimated. Not this time.
His gaze bored into her. His eyes were the deepest brown and she’d spent too long trying to decipher what he might be thinking. She’d got it wrong. Now she knew the man wasn’t just impossible to read, he was very likely thinking the exact opposite of how he appeared. He silently scoured her for every visible detail. She was conscious she’d been in her clothes for hours, having got up early to get to the airport. Ugh—why should she care about her appearance before him? She didn’t want to care at all.