The Princess's Bodyguard. BEVERLY BARTON

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      Suddenly in his peripheral vision Matt caught a glimpse of movement about twenty feet away. He leaned back against the stone wall and held his breath. Had Adele gotten down that quickly? He stared out into the darkness, lit only by hazy moonlight barely visible after the storm. That’s when Matt saw them. Two men, average size by the looks of their dark forms. They were speaking quietly. Too quietly for Matt to hear what they were saying. Then one of them pointed up, toward the roof. Both men moved forward. Matt eased slowly, carefully along the front porch until he reached the side of the inn, then he dashed off the porch and straight toward the nearest tree. He slid behind the huge tree, then looked up where he saw another dark form, small and curvy, as it climbed down a trellis attached to the side of the inn. Princess Adele. The two men waited, one on either side of the trellis.

      Damn, they were waiting for Adele. But who the hell were they? And how had they known where Adele was? Unless they had followed her, followed them, to the inn. He hadn’t paid much attention to the traffic once he’d felt certain that Yves Jurgen hadn’t followed them. It had never crossed his mind that someone might be stalking the princess.

      Matt watched while Adele descended—right into the arms of her waiting captors. Hell, he’d have to go get her, and that probably meant roughing up a couple of tough guys. He just hoped there wouldn’t be any gunplay involved. He hated like the devil to deal with the foreign police.

      Adele let out a piercing scream. Matt checked his 9 mm gun, sucked in a deep breath, then marched forward, like the calvary to the rescue.

      Chapter 4

      A dele didn’t recognize her attackers, but it was dark and she was scared to death. Although it was possible that these men were muggers, her instincts warned her that they were somehow connected to the Royalists and thus connected to Dedrick. There was no way anyone could have known where she was unless she’d been followed—or unless Matt O’Brien really wasn’t working for her father.

      She didn’t have much time to think about what was happening to her. A sweaty hand clamped over her mouth seconds after she screamed. If Matt was on the up-and-up, maybe he’d heard her cry for help. Adele tried to fight off the assault, but she didn’t have the strength to struggle against two men intent on subduing her.

      Suddenly, out of nowhere, another man appeared. Taller and bigger than the two holding her. With the swift, deadly ability of a trained soldier, the man attacked, ripping her from captivity and shoving her to freedom. Then when the two culprits surged toward him, he used his entire body as a weapon. His hands. His feet. His head. He landed blow after blow, outmaneuvering and outsmarting his opponents. Adele stood to the side of the action scene and watched in silent amazement. She’d never seen anything like it outside a big-budget adventure movie. Even without being able to see him clearly in the semidarkness, she knew her rescuer was Matt O’Brien. She recognized his hard, lean physique.

      When her two attackers lay on the ground, one apparently unconscious and the other moaning in agony, Matt grabbed Adele’s arm and dragged her away from the inn and toward the rental car they had abandoned hours ago during the rainstorm.

      “Where are we—” she tried to question him, but he pulled her with him to the car, then opened the door and shoved her inside. She didn’t protest. Not this time.

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