A Royal Mission. Elizabeth August

then laying her down gently, he asked, “How do you feel now?”

      “Like my body is a two-ton weight,” she replied honestly, the struggle to shift herself continuing to require tremendous effort.

      “That, too, is natural. I’ll bring you some soup.”

      She noted that he spoke to her in an efficient, factual manner, politely but with no emotion. Friend or foe? She could not be sure. Whichever he was, he wasn’t worried about her escaping, she noted. He left her free of bonds when he exited the room.

      Long ago she’d vowed that she would not passively accept whatever fate life dealt her. Determined to regain her strength and coordination so that if she must fight for her freedom she would at least have a chance, she forced herself into a sitting position, her legs dangling off the side of the bed. The movement helped. Her body felt a little less leaden.

      Still, her neck remained so weak, her head drooped downward until her chin rested on her chest. Drawing in a deep breath, she grimaced at the whiff of body odor. She needed a bath. Even more importantly, nature was again calling. Easing herself off the bed, she stood beside it. Her legs felt rubbery. When she tried to walk, she tottered and was forced to grab hold of one of the rear posters for support. “Rats!” she cursed in frustration. “And mice! And snakes!”

      Lance was pouring the soup into a pan when he heard her. He raced back to the bedroom, fear for her jolting him as he entered. She was pale as a sheet and looked as if she was going to fall any second. “You’re not strong enough to walk around on your own yet,” he barked, reaching her in long strides.

      “That part I figured out,” she returned curtly.

      “You need to lie back down.” He tried to loosen her grasp on the bedpost so that he could get her back on the bed.

      Victoria refused to budge. “What I need is to use the facilities.”

      “You have spunk. Most people in your condition, both men and women, would still be lying flat on the bed and yelling for help.” He hesitated a moment, then added, “All right. Let go of the post and I’ll take you there.”

      Acutely aware of his arm across her back and his hand holding her at the waist, she released her hold. His touch had a curiously invigorating effect as if she was gathering strength from him. When he placed his other hand in front of her, offering it for further support, she took hold and began to move forward, out of the room. For someone so strong, he was incredibly gentle. And she thought she’d seen real concern in his eyes when he’d come bursting into the room.

      Straightening a little to maintain her balance, she glimpsed his gun and a chill of fear curled through her. Don’t be too quick to trust him, her inner voice cautioned. He could simply be under orders to see that you’re not injured for the time being.

      “You said something about mice and snakes? Did you see any?”

      Realizing he was worried that she was hallucinating, Victoria smiled dryly. “No. My parents never allowed my sister and I to use profanity, so when we would feel the need to curse we would name things we found disgusting.”

      They had reached the bathroom, and Victoria released her hold on him and took hold of the door-jamb. “I can take care of myself from here.”

      He regarded her doubtfully.

      She glared up at him. “I insist.”

      Carefully, he freed her.

      Using the wall for balance, Victoria entered the bathroom and closed the door, but instead of reveling in her privacy, she found herself missing her host’s support. With her forehead pressed against the wall for stability, she unfastened her pants, pushed them and her panties down, then sat. The drugs were definitely wearing off. Her movements, although still sluggish, were more coordinated.

      With her elbows on her knees, she rested her head in her hands. Memories of her incarceration in the cabin flooded over her. Being escorted by her current host had been a great deal different than being escorted by The Whisperer. The Whisperer’s touch had left her feeling groped and unclean.

      Her gaze turned to the tub. The need to wash off The Whisperer’s touch overwhelmed her.

      “Are you all right?” the man asked through the door.

      “I’m fine. I’m going to bathe.”

      “I don’t think you’re steady enough yet.”

      “I’m going to bathe,” she returned, her voice holding no compromise.

      His silence gave away his reticence, but finally he said, “If you feel faint, yell.”

      Victoria remained sitting while she stripped. Once finished, she stared at the pile of discarded clothing. “I think I’ll burn them.” She was certain she recalled seeing her suitcases in the bedroom. If that had been merely wishful thinking, she would borrow something from her host, but she was never going to slip one toe into the clothes on the bathroom floor ever again.

      Climbing into the tub, she drew the shower curtain and turned on the water. As the hot water cascaded over her, she was certain nothing had ever felt this good. Her legs were still weak and when she bent over to pick up the bottle of shampoo on the side of the tub, dizziness threatened to send her reeling. Sitting down under the flow of the water, she waited until the sensation had subsided, then lathered her hair.

      Luxury. Absolute luxury. She issued a sigh of pure pleasure as she rinsed the suds out of her hair, then soaped her body.

      Standing by the door, fresh towel in hand, listening for any sign of trouble from inside, Lance frowned more darkly at himself. If she required help, he needed to be there in an instant. Time to bite the bullet.

      Opening the door, he entered the room. The shower curtain prevented him from seeing her, but the remembered feel of her in his arms gave his imagination fodder and he found himself visualizing her nude body, wet and sudsy. Fire ignited within him. Erase that thought! he ordered himself.

      “Are you all right?” he demanded.

      Startled by his voice, she scooted to the back of the tub and peered around the curtain. “What are you doing in here?”

      Lance had never seen a woman look more desirable. It took a great deal of effort, but outwardly he maintained a cool, indifferent facade. “I figured that if you fainted, I wouldn’t be much help in the hall,” he said with staid formality, while inwardly he fought a bout of lust more powerful than any he’d ever experienced.

      She let the shower curtain fall between them again, seemed to take a moment to rinse thoroughly, then reached her arm around the curtain. “May I have a towel?”

      Lance placed the towel in her hand. In his mind’s eye he visualized her first drying her hair, then rubbing down her body. His imagination was definitely working overtime. Anger that he was having so much trouble keeping his mind on the business at hand raged through him. This was not like him at all. Even in situations where he could not control all of the elements, he was always in total control of himself. Victoria Rockford was having a very disquieting effect on him.

      “I’m certain I can make it back to the bedroom on my own,” she said through the curtain.

      Lance would have liked nothing better than to obey the dismissal in her voice. But he couldn’t. “I’ll just stick around and make sure you don’t need a helping hand.”

      The towel securely in place, Victoria pulled back the curtain.

      Lance felt numb. She was even sexier than he’d imagined. Duty, man. Remember your duty, he ordered himself. Stepping back, he gave her room to step out of the tub. When she teetered slightly, he caught her by the elbow. The contact sent a charged current of heat racing through him.

      Acutely aware of his touch, Victoria was startled to realize that she had no desire to pull away. Instead, she liked the feel of his hand…it made her feel secure, safe. He’s allowed you to see him. If he’s one of the bad guys, he’s probably