Royal Protocol by Christine Flynn

himself, Harrison couldn’t help but think there was a lot of that going around.
    “It’s because whoever took your brother could easily decide they need another hostage,” he told her. “If something were to happen to him, they would have backup. Historically, female hostages don’t fare as well.”
    Princess Meredith’s astute glance pinned him. “I’m sure you don’t mean they fare worse because women are considered weaker, Admiral Monteque.”
    Being a gentleman, he hesitated. Colonel Prescott’s fiancée was normally not the sort to challenge. Apparently she was feeling that same frustration, too. “No, YourHighness. The reason they don’t fare as well is because of the temptations they present to their captors.”
    As his meaning sank in, the girls’ glances faltered.
    Gwen apparently noticed that, too.
    “Do you want me to call for an escort?” she asked Meredith.
    “Please,” came the princess’s complying reply.
    “I think I’ll just go to my room,” Princess Anastasia murmured.
    Princess Megan rose and brushed a kiss against her mother’s cheek. “I’ll come with you,” she said to her sibling. “I’ve already canceled my day at the foundling home. You can help me write thank-you notes for wedding gifts.”
    “We’ll see you for dinner, Mum.” Meredith kissed her mother, too.
    So did Anastasia.
    “We’ll see,” was the queen’s only reply.
    Harrison suddenly felt like the proverbial bull in the china shop as he stood to the side waiting for the princesses to depart. There was none of the formality here that he’d always seen among the royal family. Even with the undercurrent of anxiety about their brother, a sense of casualness permeated the very feminine room. But it was the way they treated Gwen that he found most interesting. Seeming mindless of his presence, the princesses each walked up to her on their way out, stopping to give her a hug as if she were family herself. Gwen murmured something to each of them, words of encouragement, a reminder to call if she could be of help.
    Meredith was last.
    “Make her join us,” she muttered to Gwen. “She needs to eat.”
    “I know,” Gwen murmured back. “I’ll work on it.And, Meredith, I’m sorry this all had to happen the night of your engagement. This should be such a wonderful time for you.” A smile lit the depths of her eyes. “Your Pierce is a very lucky young man.”
    Stepping back, Gwen released her. “You girls be careful.”
    “We will be,” the princess assured her on a whisper and, after giving her another quick hug, followed her sisters past the guards in the hall.
    Harrison found himself staring at her back as she finally closed the door. He’d already suspected that she was far more influential with the queen that he’d first thought. Considering what he’d just witnessed, he realized she was also the anchor here, the person they were all looking toward to get them through a rough stretch of stormy sea.
    He hadn’t expected that. Nor had he expected the very real affection between her and the queen’s children. Watching her with them, he’d seen none of her reserve. Just genuine interest and a gentleness that put another crack in the ice maiden image he’d once had of her.
    Had it not been for the other affairs on his mind, he might have wondered at how easily she’d been sabotaging his concentration all afternoon. She was doing it at that very moment. Having fewer moments by the second to spare, the only other thought he allowed himself about her was that she didn’t need to be there now.
    As if she’d just read his mind, she turned to where Queen Marissa remained seated on the divan. From the moment he’d come in, he’d been aware of her. He was aware now of the way she deliberately avoided his eyes.
    “Do you wish me to stay or leave?” she asked the queen.
    “Stay.” Her Majesty’s ringed fingers were clasped inher lap, her knuckles nearly white against her sapphire skirt.