Читать книгу The Duchess and Her Bodyguard - Mollie Molay - Страница 13

“This is the mall?” May clutched the only item from her original clothing choice Wade had allowed her to keep, her large straw bag. The rest of her possessions were locked in the trunk of the unmarked black sedan driven by the Secret Service and, to her disgust, was safely out of her reach. “I thought you meant a shopping mall!”

As if she’d said something amusing, Wade burst out laughing. “No, Your Grace, what you see is a lot more than that.” He motioned to the series of buildings in front of them. “Those are only a few of the Smithsonian museums. There are nine of them.”

“Museums,” May echoed faintly. She was tempted to tell him she’d visited dozens of museums and churches as part of her duties back home and wasn’t looking forward to spending time seeing any more. She shuddered. “You can’t possibly mean we’re going to visit all nine, do you?”

“No,” he looked at his watch. “We don’t have time. But maybe tomorrow. Today you can take your pick of the National Museum of American History, the Museum of Natural History, the National Gallery of Art or the Arts and Industry Museum—”

“Stop right there,” she commanded, peering at her escort. “You are joking, are you not?”

“Not at all,” he replied cheerfully, amused at her quaint manner of speech. “If these don’t appeal to you, there are a few more museums farther on that might interest you.”

“No, thank you.” May had to fight the urge to lose herself in the passing stream of tourists. If only she hadn’t outsmarted herself by wearing a garish sweatshirt bound to stand out in any crowd. “What else is on your list?”

Wade made a show of consulting a slip of paper he’d taken out of his jacket pocket. “We can take the trolley to the other end of the Mall and check out the Capitol Building, if you’re interested. Or grab a cab and visit the Jefferson Memorial. It’s beautiful, especially at dusk. I’m sure you’ll like it. In fact, the memorial is my personal favorite.”

“Maybe so,” May answered, her mind busy trying to find a way to lose her escort. “But dusk is a long way off. On second thought,” she added, “how about the National Portrait Gallery? It is somewhere around here, is it not?” With an excuse to use the ladies’ room she was sure she would be able to rid herself of the garish sweatshirt that marked her. Once out of her escort’s sight, and dressed like the average tourist, surely it would be easy to get lost in a crowd when he wasn’t looking.

He looked surprised. “You really want to visit the National Portrait Gallery?”

“Sure,” she said, pretending innocence. “It was on my list, wasn’t it?”

“Yes, it was,” Wade agreed, but he didn’t look convinced. “Frankly, I thought you only put it on the list to throw me off.”

“You don’t trust me?” She widened her eyes and tried to look innocent.

“Ask me no questions…” His voice trailed off.

May winced as she remembered the universally well-known finish of the saying:…and I’ll tell you no lies.

She managed to look wounded, her mind made up. What had put Wade on to her, anyway? She had told the truth. Even if there was an ulterior motive behind it.

“Let us go,” she said with a tight smile. “According to you, my life could be in danger, so do not forget to call me May in public.”

Wade smothered a reply. Her facetious response told him she wasn’t aware of any possible danger to her or she wouldn’t be taking things so casually. How could he protect her when she didn’t think she needed to be protected? And especially when she was obviously bent on having her way, one way or another?

He silently cursed the undersecretary of the navy for involving him in the current scenario. And with a secret that should never have been kept from the person at risk. Without her cooperation, his assignment was much riskier.

All the more reason to protect the lady from herself.

“Let’s go.” He took her arm but not before glancing behind him for the two Secret Service agents who should have been there but were not.

It looked as if, for now at least, he and the duchess were on their own.

He picked up a couple of brochures on the way into the gallery and handed one to the duchess. “Everything around you is a portrait or possession of an American who contributed in some way to our country.” He pointed out well-known portraits and memorabilia in glass cases that dated back to the eighteenth century. “Take your pick.”

She studied the brochure he handed her and moved down the room. He had to give her credit for being a good sport, but after about forty portraits he noticed her attention was flagging. “Want a break?” he asked sympathetically.

“I could use a chance to freshen up,” she said as they passed the door to a ladies’ room. Before he could reply, she disappeared behind the mahogany door.

After making sure there was only one way in and out of the rest room, Wade lounged alongside the door. While something told him she had something up her sleeve, surely a stop at the ladies’ room was no big deal.

But what was a big deal was that he had an uneasy feeling they’d been followed. He gazed at his surroundings. Crowds of people, families with children and, from the sound of conversation, a number of foreign visitors. So far, so good.

He finally spotted the two Secret Service agents covertly studying a burly, dark-haired man down the hall. Maybe it was the sight of the man that made the hackles rise on the back of his neck, but there was something definitely going on. He was debating moving away from the rest room door to confront the man when he disappeared. The Secret Service agents with him.

Uneasy, Wade vowed to be extra watchful from here on out. And not to let the intriguing and conniving duchess, or anyone else, distract him from his duty to protect her.

Heaven help him if he lost a charge for the second time.

After a few minutes he checked his watch. Not even a duchess needed more than twenty minutes to freshen up, he told himself. He’d been right from the moment he’d heard about the escort duty, he thought sourly. What the lady needed was a nursemaid or a nanny. A woman who could charge through that closed door and haul her out of there, willing or not.

A woman with two little girls about to enter the ladies’ room paused to glance suspiciously at him. He straightened up and sighed. Much more of this and he would be arrested for loitering outside a women’s rest room.

“Pardon me, ma’am,” he said hurriedly. “I wonder if you could do me a favor. My girlfriend’s inside. She’s been in there so long I’m beginning to worry about her. Do you mind asking if there’s a May inside? And reminding her, her boyfriend is out here waiting for her?”

The woman’s frown disappeared and was replaced by a sympathetic smile. “Not at all, young man. I’ll send her right out.”

A moment later Wade saw May sneak out and turn left—the wrong direction for the exit.

Eyes popping, Wade almost didn’t recognize her. She wore a too-tight T-shirt she must have hidden under the large Wal-Mart sweatshirt. He edged after her, keeping a hulking father of five between the two of them.

He was surprised to see her pause. Her profile, her downturned mouth caught his attention. What could she have been looking at? He edged closer and peered over a tourist’s shoulder. To his surprise, she was looking at a family portrait that included two children, one of them a baby.

Before he could speak up, the duchess turned around and made for the exit.

His fears realized, Wade gritted his teeth. Whatever the duchess thought she was doing, she was no match for him. In three quick strides he caught her by her arm. “You’re not going to get rid of me that easily, Your Grace, or should I say May?”

She glanced at his hand. She looked surprised but, thank God, didn’t lose her cool. He smothered a sigh of relief and took his hand away. Maybe he ought to remember whom he was dealing with. A duchess was a duchess, after all.

“May,” she said. Her voice soft, the look in her eyes inviting. But he knew the truth. She was putting on an act.

She might have invited him to call her by her nickname, but from her first reaction to his holding her arm, Wade doubted anyone of the lady’s acquaintance, outside of her immediate family, had ever been so familiar with her. So why was she allowing him to touch her?

“May it is,” he agreed, “but don’t bother to tempt me.” He eyed her formfitting T-shirt, her lush lips and intriguing eyes. To his disgust his body stirred. No matter how she was dressed, the lady was trouble in the form of an inviting bundle of femininity. If he knew what was good for him, he’d keep his testosterone under control and remember he was just her bodyguard.

Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted the helpful woman and her two little girls coming out of the ladies’ room and heading toward them. He put his arms around the duchess and mentally prayed she was smart enough to go along with him.

“Pardon me, ma’am,” he said. “My girlfriend forgot her sweatshirt back inside there. It’s the one with Washington, D.C., written across the front in large red, white and blue letters. You can’t miss it. Do you mind bringing it out for her? I’m afraid she’s cold without it.”

The woman was frankly curious and eyed May. “Why can’t she go inside and get it for herself?”

He gripped the duchess even tighter and felt her strain against him. “I’m afraid she’ll get lost inside there again. We have an important appointment to keep.”

The woman nodded reluctantly, went back inside the rest room and came out with the sweatshirt. With a reproving glance at the duchess, she led the children away.

“A leash,” Wade echoed softly, glancing down at the woman he held in his arms. “Not a bad idea, considering. Now, stay still for a moment.” He turned the duchess around to face him. “Are you going to come quietly or…” He slipped the bulky sweatshirt over her head while he spoke. Big mistake. He’d not only seen the duchess’s very feminine curves under the T-shirt, his hands were sliding over her warm torso. Just how much was a red-blooded man expected to take, he asked himself as he pulled the sweatshirt into place and stepped back. “Now you look like a real tourist again.”

She glanced down at the shirt and shrugged. “If you say so. Now what, Commander?”

“We could we go back to the galleries, or maybe you’re ready for something else?”

“Lunch would be nice,” she answered with a startled look. “Unless you intend to starve me into submission.”

“Not at all,” he said as he sensed she had been just as affected by his hands sliding over her as he had been. And that she had to be aware of his body’s involuntary response at the contact. Not that he could have helped responding to her warm skin, lush curves and silky smile. He would have had to be carved out of marble not to react. “I’m a twenty-first-century man. Torture isn’t my style. Where would you like to eat?”

“I’m a stranger here, remember?” She gazed around the gallery. “This visit has been very educational, but I’d like to go someplace where there’s the sound of human voices, perhaps some music. I don’t mean to offend you, Commander,” she added as if in apology, “but I’d like to go somewhere more exciting.”

“Call me Wade,” he said, glancing at the portraits of men and women who made him proud to serve his country. She was right. Maybe, to a casual foreign observer, the gallery wasn’t as exciting as it was to him.

Still, the feeling they were being watched was exciting enough for him. Maybe it was better to move on. “Let’s go. I know just the place.”

Outside, the elusive Secret Service men were nowhere to be seen. Wade hailed a cab and opened the door for his companion. Thank goodness, she was back to smiling. And this time, he sensed the smile was genuine. “The Old Post Office Pavilion, driver.”

“Oh, no,” May said unhappily as she scooted across the seat to make room for him. “Not a post office!”

“Take my word for it, May,” he said with a warning glance at the cab driver, “this isn’t like any post office you’ve ever seen. You’re going to like this one.”

She did. Fascinated by the renovated nineteenth-century Romanesque building, May gazed happily around her at the laughing crowds milling around. And at the double level of shops selling food and items from around the world. She had told the truth, she was starving.

To her delight a band was playing at one end of the first floor. A female singer was belting out “Hit or Miss,” a song she vaguely recognized was a popular American love song. And, as a result of the beautiful melody, reacted even more strongly than ever to her male escort’s presence at her side.

She silently chided herself for her futile attraction to Wade Stevens. An attraction she had felt when she had first noticed him. An attraction that would linger long after she was back home.

She returned her attention to her surroundings with an effort. Her escort had delivered, just as he’d promised. The old post office was a taste of the excitement and a part of the city she’d been hoping to experience.

“What would you like to eat?”

“Something typically American,” she answered. “My father brought his chef with him, and the food is the same as we have back home.”

“You’ll find American food here,” he told her as he pointed to the food stalls. “What will it be, May? Name it and I’m sure it’s probably available.”

“Mexican,” she answered happily, eyeing a neon sign. “It looks and smells inviting. But are you sure it’s typically American?”

“It is now,” Wade said as he spied a table being vacated in front of the fast-food stall. “You grab a table and I’ll get the food.” The temptation to find a vacant table momentarily threatened to overwhelm his common sense.

“Oh, no,” she said, pulling back. “I want to look at everything. And order a little of everything that looks good. You take the table. I’ll be right back.”

Wade caught her arm. After her extended stay in the ladies’ room, he wasn’t about to let her go off on her own. Not while he still had his marbles. He intended to spend the rest of the day joined at the hip to the duchess. “The answer is no. We’ll go together,” he said firmly, and took her arm. “Lead on.”

May dug in her heels. “You still do not trust me, do you? Where do you think I would go?”

“No farther than I can throw a stick,” he said frankly. “The rules are that you’re not going anywhere without me. But don’t let that spoil your appetite.” He led her to the Happy Burrito food stall.

To his amusement May was as good as her word. She was either actually starving or she was putting on a good show. She finally headed for a vacant table carrying a tray laden with a variety of Mexican foods. He passed up his turn to order and strode after her. Whatever she’d chosen would have to be enough for two.

Maybe he had been wrong about her, Wade thought as he followed her swaying hips to a newly vacant table. After an amused glance at her full tray, he’d known he wouldn’t have to worry about her pulling a disappearing act, at least for a while. She’d be too busy eating.

He sat back and surveyed the territory. They were surrounded by enough people to make up a small army. Foreign visitors mingled with American tourists. Maybe even some visitors from countries surrounding Baronovia, he thought unhappily as he checked out the area. Maybe even some from countries that were apparently determined to block a United States presence there.

He remained troubled as the duchess ate her way through her lunch. She glanced up as she dug a corn chip into small plastic dish of hot salsa and held it up to his lips. “Would you like to share?”

Mesmerized by the way she licked a bit of salsa from her lips, Wade opened his mouth for the spicy tidbit. When her fingers grazed his lips, his heart skipped a beat or two. As long as this was a game, he was a willing participant. But that was as far as he intended to go. “Kind of spicy, isn’t it?”

She dipped another corn chip into salsa and chewed happily. Another bit of salsa clung to the corner of her lips. Instinctively he leaned forward and wiped it away with a gentle fingertip. Their eyes met. Hers were wide with a question.

He didn’t know what she was thinking, but he realized his gesture had been more intimate than it should have been. Damn! Much more of this and he’d be putty in her hands. “Just trying to be helpful,” he said.

“Thank you,” she said with a winsome smile. “I find I like Mexican food. I shall have to find a way to bring it to Baronovia.”

Wade thought rapidly. No matter if she’d invited him to call her May while in public, even in private, touching her was not appropriate behavior for an escort. Why had the duchess welcomed his intimate touch? Was it an act?

Or, more to the point, was she now the real May and no longer the devious duchess Mary Louise?

As if to remind him he was her bodyguard as well as her escort, the holster and his Beretta dug into the side of his chest. At the reminder, he tensed and casually glanced around to make sure no one was paying undue attention to them. He would have felt a lot better about being so exposed to danger if he could be certain the Secret Service had caught up with them.

Her appetite momentarily satisfied, May gazed happily around her. The Old Post Office and the air of excitement generated by the hundreds of tourists were just what she wanted to experience. Stone tributes honoring the American heroes she’d known from studying history books were not.

She understood her escort’s appreciation of the places she had said she wanted to visit. The commander was, in or out of the uniform that had attracted her, in the service of his country.

She would have been pleased if he’d worn his uniform now.

She shouldn’t complain, she thought as she gazed at Wade Stevens. Dressed in beige slacks, loose matching jacket and a white shirt open to his throat, he looked like an ordinary tourist. What he couldn’t hide was that he was a military man. At least, not to her. She’d reviewed enough military parades in the company of her father to recognize the proud demeanor and the assurance of a military man.

She yearned to be plain May Baron. To have a man like Wade for her own. To have the child she hadn’t been able to conceive when she was married. Foolish dreams, she told herself and lowered her eyes. She was a dowager duchess with a future royal role yet to be played.