Princely Submission by K.C. Wells

Chapter Three

Stuart gave a polite bow. “Your Majesty, I hope I caused no offense.” Way to go to make a great first impression.

“No, you didn’t. In fact, your appraisal was quite accurate. I think this interview would be best conducted in less formal surroundings.” He glanced at Piotr, his eyes twinkling. “Perhaps I need to invest in new leather shoes that squeak, so that you have some warning of my approach. Thank you, Piotr. That will be all. I will take care of Mr. Whitmore from now on.”

Piotr gave another bow of his head, then withdrew from the audience chamber.

King Ludomir chuckled. “I have a habit of sneaking up on him. One day I will give him a heart attack.” He gestured to the rear of the chamber, where two doors flanked the dais. “Let us go to my private chamber.” His lips twitched. “It’s far less imposing.”

Gotta like a guy with a sense of humor.

The king led him to the door on the right. He pushed it open, and Stuart entered a much smaller room. A computer sat on the desk, and to the right under the window were two comfortable-looking armchairs. He gestured to one of them. “Please, sit.” Then he pressed a button on the desk.

A moment later, a young woman appeared and bowed to him. “Your Majesty?”

“Elise, could we have some coffee, please?” The king turned to Stuart. “If that is agreeable.”

Stuart smiled. “If you knew how much I need some caffeine right now, Your Majesty, you wouldn’t ask.”

King Ludomir laughed. “Another caffeine addict. I think we shall get along.” Elise disappeared, and they sat in the two chairs. “When we’ve spoken, and after you’ve met my son, I’ll have you shown to your room. I thought you might prefer to stay in the palace.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty. I’d assumed I’d be in a hotel in the city.” Stuart had stayed in more than a few swanky places in his time, but never in so grand a palace.

King Ludomir frowned. “Certainly not. You are my guest.” He leaned back in his chair. “I trust your journey was satisfactory.”

“That last part certainly was. Just don’t ask about the flight to Bucharest. Not that there was anything wrong with it, it’s just…”

“I find flying to be a tedious affair,” the king commented. “That is why I go everywhere in the jet. If I have to travel by plane, I insist on being comfortable while I do so.”

Elise returned, carrying a tray on which sat a coffeepot, two fat cups, a jug of cream, a bowl of sugar, and a plate of cookies. She deposited the tray on the small table between the chairs, gave another bow, and left them.

Stuart glanced at the cookies. “Are those for me?”

“I think that is my cook’s idea. I have never seen cookies in this palace.” He indicated the plate. “Please, help yourself. And once you’ve seen my son and your room, lunch will be served. After that, if you feel the need to take a nap, I will completely understand. You’ve traveled a great distance to be here.”

“Now that you mention it, my arms are a little tired,” Stuart quipped.

He laughed. “A sense of humor is a very likeable trait, Mr. Whitmore. And one that bodes well for our discussion.”

Stuart gave him a thoughtful gaze. “Are you interviewing all your security detail, Your Majesty?”

King Ludomir shook his head. “No, just you.”

Stuart’s interest was definitely piqued.

To Stuart’s surprise, the king poured him a cup of coffee. “I asked for you because I did a little research, and concluded that you are exactly what I’m looking for. As I require you for a specific purpose, I will be honest with you.”

“Okay.” The cookies could wait.

“If you are to agree to be my son’s bodyguard, it is only fair that I give you an accurate portrait of him. Prince Jordan is our only child.”

In Stuart’s book, that was a euphemism for spoiled. “Hardly a child if he’s twenty, Your Majesty.”

“Quite, but…” King Ludomir hesitated. “I have afforded him too much latitude in recent years, and the consequences for his actions have not been severe enough.”

Stuart sipped his coffee. “So what you’re saying is, he’s gotten away with murder. Figuratively speaking, of course.”

The king’s eyes gleamed. “Exactly. Perhaps, in hindsight, we ought not to have chosen such a rigid path for him.” When Stuart gave him a quizzical glance, he continued. “It was decided that he should not have access to the Internet until he was sixteen.”

“Really?” Then Stuart remembered his manners. “I mean, I’m sure you had your reasons…”

“The queen felt it would distract him from his studies. Perhaps in retrospect, that was wrong. He’s had a sheltered childhood. Maybe it’s little wonder he became rebellious.”

Stuart was beginning to see why Matt had thought he’d be a good fit for this assignment. “Let me guess. The rebellion started once he got past sixteen.” When the king blinked, Stuart nodded. “It’s like any kid who’s been deprived of candy, snacks… When they’re finally let loose in a candy store…” He mimed an explosion.

“I fear you are correct.” King Ludomir sipped his coffee. “Eventually the crown will pass to Jordan. He’s told me himself that he needs to be prepared for such an eventuality, and perhaps this trip will mold him a little, and the man who will be the future king will emerge.”

“He said that?” Stuart gave an internal snort. That kid sure knows how to play his old man.

King Ludomir smiled. “I am not a fool, Mr. Whitmore. I think Jordan said exactly what I wanted to hear. As they say in your country, Jordan talks the talk, but so far he has yet to walk the walk.”

Stuart grinned. “No sir, you are no fool.”

The king steepled his fingers. “I chose you because of your reputation as a man not easily manipulated.”

“That might have been mentioned in conversation.” Stuart cocked his head to one side. “That implies you think he will try to manipulate me.”

King Ludomir smirked. “I am certain of it. That is why I want someone who will be firm. I couldn’t trust this job to any of my team. It had to be someone from outside Elloria.”

“I’m not connected in any way to your team. Is that it?” The king nodded. Stuart arched his eyebrows. “Just how firm do you want me to be?”

“I leave that up to you. He will be in your hands, and I will not interfere.”

“You’re giving me free rein?”

“Yes. Mr. Whitmore, I will be involved in negotiations to secure contracts. That is, after all, the focus of my visit. I do not want to be forever wondering if my son is behaving as he should. I would be trusting you to ensure he toes the line and does not bring shame upon Elloria.” He met Stuart’s gaze. “I am under no illusions. This is no easy task that I set. He will push your buttons, as they say, once he finds them. And he will find them.”

Stuart smiled. “He can try. I don’t like his chances.”

King Ludomir’s eyes sparkled. “I think I chose well.” He cleared his throat. “Perhaps it is time you two should meet. I believe he is in the library. He spends a lot of time in there or in his room.” His brow furrowed. “He has too little to occupy him, but that will change.”

The king led Stuart out of the private chamber, through the hallways that twisted and turned, up staircases and around corners, until finally they reached a far corner of the palace. He paused at the door.

“One last word before we enter. I will be present when you speak with him, but please, pretend I am not, and deal with him according to your instincts.”

Stuart nodded. “You want him to see where the rubber meets the road. Okay.”

King Ludomir opened the door and strode into the room, Stuart behind him. The library wasn’t huge, but there were shelves on every wall, and a few wide leather armchairs here and there that appeared perfect for curling up in with a good book.

Curled up in one was the prince, his head in one hand, a book in the other.

He raised his chin and looked Stuart up and down, appraising him. There was intelligence in that haughty gaze, and something else—his blue eyes widened a fraction, and there was a slight catch in his breathing, but he soon collected himself. He marked his place in the book, then set it down before rising to his feet. Jordan was taller than his father, but only slightly shorter than Stuart, with brown hair, short at the sides and longer on top and swept back. There was the faintest shadow of a mustache marring his creamy complexion.

His mouth turned down at the corners.

What do you look like when you smile, Your Highness? Do you smile?

Stuart pushed the thought aside and gave a polite bow. “Your Highness, let me introduce myself. My name is Stuart Whitmore.” Behind him, he heard the scrape of chair legs on the floor, and knew the king had sat. Stuart gestured to the prince’s chair. “Please, sit down.”

For a moment, it felt as though Jordan was going to ignore him, but at last he sat heavily, his arms folded. Stuart grabbed the nearest empty chair and pulled it toward the prince. He sat, leaning forward, his hands clasped, waiting for Jordan to make a move.

“Where are you from?” The prince’s voice carried in the stillness of the library, and there was a sharp edge to it.

“Upstate New York, Your Highness.”

“And how long have you been a bodyguard?”

“Ten years.” Jordan’s eyebrows arched, and Stuart added with a smile, “Your Highness.”

I get it. You’re a brat. An entitled brat.

When Jordan lapsed into silence, Stuart took control. “Are you looking forward to the trip?”

“Well, that depends…” That haughty look was still in evidence. “If you’re to be my bodyguard, I’ll expect you to do as I say.”

Stuart relaxed into the chair. “Funny. That wasn’t the impression I got of how this will go.”

The prince blinked. “Really? What do you think your duties would entail?”

Stuart locked gazes with him. “I don’t think I’ll be there to do your bidding. It’s more a case of making sure you don’t get yourself into trouble. Apparently, you’re good at that.”

Jordan’s eyes widened. “You can’t talk to me like that. I’m a prince.”

Stuart nodded slowly. “Yes, you are.” When Jordan gave a smug smile, he continued, “But you’re not my prince. And if you don’t like the way I talk to you, take it up with your father. He’s sitting right there, and he doesn’t seem to have a problem with the way I’m speaking to you. And another thing. When you’re in my country, you will do as I say when it comes to keeping you safe.”

The prince glanced in his father’s direction, then back to Stuart. “And if I choose not to do as you say?”

Time to teach the brat how the land lies.

“Then like any child who misbehaves, you will find yourself over my knee—Your Highness.” He glanced toward the king, and had to fight hard not to react.

King Ludomir was clearly trying not to laugh. His face was flushed, his lips pressed together.

Jordan gasped. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Try me. I can give you a taste right now of what’s coming your way if you cross me.” Stuart gave him a hard stare. “Understand me, Your Highness—my job is to keep you from harm, whether that’s something you walk into inadvertently—or deliberately.”

Judging by Jordan’s stony expression, the prospect did not please him.

“Do I take it you’re happy to undertake this assignment?” the king asked.

Stuart nodded. “Certainly. I think we’ll come to understand each other pretty quickly. Don’t you, Your Highness?”

Jordan did not reply, but stared at him with barely concealed hostility.

Just what I need—an entitled brat.

Stuart’s palm was already itching.

King Ludomir stood. “I’ll have someone show you to your room, and then once you’re settled, we’ll have lunch in the dining room. After that, perhaps you and Jordan might talk. Getting to know one another can only make things run more smoothly.” The king gave Stuart a warm smile. “Although I feel you already have a… handle on him? Is that the phrase?”

“It is indeed, Your Majesty.” Stuart couldn’t help grinning. This is going to be a fun assignment.

Well, Stuart intended having some fun. He doubted Jordan saw it in the same light.

As they left the library, Stuart couldn’t resist one final peek at the prince. Jordan’s eyes seemed to bulge, his nostrils flaring.

No, he doesn’t think it’s gonna be fun at all.