The Bodyguard's Bride-To-Be. Amelia Autin

slept in her hospital room last night. And he had every intention of doing the same tonight and every night until she regained consciousness and was able to tell the nurses herself that Marek was not her fiancé and had no business being there. Some men might not have been able to sleep slouching in a chair, but Marek was not one of them. He was a soldier—he could sleep anywhere. And where he chose to sleep was at Tahra’s side.

      He couldn’t guard her 24/7—there were soldiers posted outside the door to her hospital room to do that. And besides, it would be unthinkable to request leave during this national crisis, despite his desperate worry over Tahra.

      But he could guard her when he wasn’t on duty. He could sit beside her. Sleep beside her. Express his love—the love she didn’t believe in—the only way he could while she was unconscious. He would do this because he couldn’t not do this.

      And when Tahra came out of her coma? When she banished him from her side the way she’d done when she’d rejected his marriage proposal just over two weeks ago? I will cross that bridge when I come to it, Marek thought, his eyes narrowing with determination. For now, she is mine to protect.

      * * *

      Marek abruptly halted on the threshold of Tahra’s hospital room when he saw a strange woman sitting in his chair beside the bed. The woman looked up, and though he’d never met her, he recognized her from a picture Tahra had shown him, and from his own research into Tahra’s family. Carly Edwards. Tahra’s famous older sister.

      Someone must have called her, he realized. Guilt stabbed through him because he should have called Tahra’s sister himself, as soon as he learned Tahra was in the hospital. But the idea had never occurred to him—too many other things to worry about. Alec, he thought. Alec must have called her.

      His supposition was confirmed when Tahra’s sister stood and walked toward him, then took his arm and led him out of the room, saying softly, “The embassy notified me immediately because I’m Tahra’s next of kin. I’m Carly Edwards, and you’re Marek, right? Captain Marek Zale? I want to talk with you, but I don’t want to do it where Tahra might hear.”

      She dropped his arm once they were outside, and she headed down the wide hospital corridor, not even looking to see if Marek was following her. He smiled a little to himself, remembering the bits and pieces Tahra had mentioned to him about her older sister...and Carly’s formidable reputation in the world of journalism. “Tiger Shark” was her nickname—a well-deserved one—and his smile faded as he followed her to the waiting room on that floor. Alec hadn’t called him on it when Marek had declared Tahra was his fiancée, but he didn’t think Carly would afford him the same consideration. Which meant he’d better come up with a story—in the next sixty seconds. One that would satisfy Carly. Or else his little fiction was going to be blown out of the water.

      She stopped when she reached a quiet corner of the waiting room, then turned to confront him. “Imagine my surprise,” she drawled in the soft Virginia accent that reminded him of Tahra, but at the same time held a note of steel Tahra’s voice never had, “when my fiancé’s brother called me to say Tahra was in the hospital...but her fiancé was keeping close tabs on her and could keep me apprised of her condition.”

      Marek had forgotten. Tahra had mentioned her sister had recently become engaged to Senator Shane Jones, who—in one of those quirks of reality—was Alec’s oldest brother.

      “I can explain.”

      “I hope you can, Captain. Because I’m this close—” she held her thumb and forefinger up to show him exactly what she meant “—to having you thrown out of this hospital, and arrested if I can swing it.” When Marek didn’t immediately speak, she pounced. “You are not Tahra’s fiancé. She told me all about your proposal, and why she turned it down. So you have no business being here.”

      His face hardened. “Whatever Tahra may have told you about that fiasco is meaningless. She loves me. If she confided anything to you, she would have confided that. Yes?”

      “That’s neither here nor there,” Carly countered quickly.

      “If you know that much, you know I love her, too.” The words poured out of him, the words he hadn’t been able to say to Tahra herself, but which she’d known were true when he proposed.

      “Again, not germane to the situation.”

      He didn’t know what germane meant—he prided himself on his English, but it wasn’t perfect. He could infer the meaning by the context, however, and there was even more steel in his voice than in Carly’s when he answered her. “The hospital would give me no information on Tahra’s condition until I said I was her fiancé. Have you never told a lie for the purest of reasons, Miss Edwards?”

      A flash of something that might have been guilt crossed her face, but she raised her chin and said, “Ms. Edwards. Not ‘miss.’”

      “I apologize, Ms. Edwards,” Marek said stiffly. “We do not have that distinction in Zakhar, and Tahra never—” He chopped that sentence off before he could finish it, then returned to his initial point. “I would tell any lie I had to in that situation. I would do it again, no matter the consequences. In my heart Tahra is mine to cherish, and I could not bear—”

      He broke off as emotion threatened to swamp him. When he had himself under control, he said, “My deception has harmed no one, least of all Tahra. Ask yourself what you would have done under the circumstances, Ms. Edwards.”

      Her eyes searched his face for a full minute before they softened. “Okay, I’ll buy that. But what are you going to do when Tahra regains consciousness?”

      “That will be up to Tahra. If she asks me to leave, I will leave.” He hesitated, then added, “I pray she will not, but that is in God’s hands.”

      “Okay,” Carly repeated, and the confrontational tone in her voice was noticeably absent. “So what can you tell me about how Tahra was injured? Alec wasn’t all that specific when we talked on the phone, and I came directly to the hospital from the airport.” She gave a delicate snort. “And though the guards on the door let me pass—after I showed them my passport and they checked with their commanding officer, who consulted with the US embassy—they either wouldn’t or couldn’t give me any details.”

      “I can tell you what I know...but only as Tahra’s sister.” He gave her an apologetic smile. “This information cannot be broadcast because these attacks are a breach of national security, and an investigation is underway. You are a journalist, and—”

      She cut him off. “You have my word. Anything you tell me as Tahra’s sister will be in strictest confidence.”

      Marek quickly relayed the facts he knew. “So you see, Tahra could still be in danger. We do not know this, but it is very likely. If the terrorist who left the bomb at the preschool thinks she can identify him, he will likely stop at nothing to silence her.” Marek let that sink in before adding in a low voice, “There are guards protecting her, but I...I slept in her room last night because I could not stay away. Because I had to protect her myself. I will do the same every night until she regains consciousness. Until she personally rejects my protection. Can you understand this?”

      “I understand.” A tiny smile flickered over Carly’s lips and spread to her eyes. “I understand something else, too. You really do love her.”

      It wasn’t a question, but Marek answered anyway. “But of course.”

      “There’s no ‘of course’ about it.”

      Marek shook his head. “To know Tahra is to love her,” he said simply. “I had no choice.”

      “There is always a choice,” she insisted.

      “Not with Tahra.”

      * * *

      Tahra was tired of swimming through the murky waters of her memories. She swam and swam, but no matter how hard she tried there was something just out of reach. It was important—she