Kiss the Bride (45 page)

“You’re taking it out of context, Elysee. What I’m saying is that I’m not the president of the world.”

“Well, you should be.”

“My opponents might disagree with you there.”

“You might not want to help, Dad, but I’ve got to get involved with WorldFem.”

“Be mindful of your position. You have a lot of influence. You must choose your causes with care.”

“Exactly. What’s the point of having influence if you can’t effect change?”

“Just proceed with caution.”

“I’m not a child, father. I understand my responsibilities.”

Nathan frowned, but said nothing. Father and daughter exchanged a meaningful look. Shane couldn’t help wondering if the President was thinking about Elysee’s broken engagements and the men who’d taken advantage.

She pushed back from the table. “If you’ll excuse me, I have a bit of a headache. I think I’ll go to bed early.”

“Good night.”

Elysee paused at the door, and looked at him over her shoulder. “Shane?”

“Shane and I have a few things to discuss in private,” her father said.

“You’re not going to fire him off my detail just because he got hurt, are you?”

Was he? It was Shane’s greatest fear.

“No, no, of course not. It’s just the first time I’ve had a chance to speak with him in person since the incident.”

“Oh. Okay.” Looking appeased, Elysee left the room.

Nathan Benedict pushed back his chair, nodded at Shane. “A brandy in the study?”

“Sure.” He didn’t usually drink, but when the President of the United States suggested you take a brandy in the study, you took a brandy in the study. Shane followed Nathan past Cal Ackerman, standing sentry in the hallway.

He had the feeling his old buddy had been eavesdropping on their dinner conversation. It was a complication of the job, being privy to high-placed secrets but having to pretend that you didn’t hear or see anything you weren’t supposed to.

They exchanged glances, but Cal’s face was unreadable. Shane wished he could change places with his former partner. He wanted his old role back. This strange new one didn’t fit.

“Shut the door,” Nathan said.

Shane entered the study behind him. He closed the door with his left hand, and kept his right hand tucked in his pocket.

“Let’s see the hand.”

“Excuse me, sir?”

“Your hand. I heard it was crushed. That you’ll never be able to use a gun again.”

“That’s just one doctor’s opinion.” Shane shrugged.

“Let me see the hand,” Nathan repeated.

He didn’t want to comply. Was the man trying to humiliate him? Or use his injury as a reason to dismiss him, even though Benedict had promised Elysee he wouldn’t?

The thought angered him. His eyes locked with the President’s. “What for?”

“I want to see what you were willing to sacrifice for my daughter.”

It was an odd statement. It effectively diffused Shane’s anger, but not his embarrassment. Slowly, he pulled his hand from his pocket and thrust it under Nathan Benedict’s nose. He steeled his jaw, hardened his feelings.

“Can you make a fist?”

Shane bent his fingertips as far as they would go. His mangled paw wouldn’t even make a good talon. His fingers felt stiff as concrete and almost as cold. They ached, but then again, they hadn’t really stopped aching since he’d awakened from the coma. What good was a Secret Service agent who couldn’t pull a trigger?

“They had to fuse the metacarpals in your hand.” Nathan said it as a statement, as if he had already talked to Shane’s doctors.

“Yes.”

“You took a blow to the temple as well, survived a brain bleed without any lasting damage.”

“That’s what I’ve been told.”

“You saved my daughter’s life.” Benedict headed for the wet bar in the corner of the room.

“I did what had to be done.” Self-consciously, Shane eased his hand back into his pocket.

“You’re a hero.” Benedict poured the brandy and turned back to him. He extended the brandy snifter toward Shane’s left hand.

“I’m not.” How could he be a hero when he couldn’t even make a fist? “I was simply doing my job.”

“It’s more than that.”

“Beg your pardon?” What was the man getting at?

“Your job is your identity. I know all about you, Tremont. I know your grandfather was killed at Normandy on
D-day and your father is a decorated Vietnam POW. I know you saved a fellow recruit from friendly fire during boot camp maneuvers. Heroism is in your blood. I also know that you’ve had some sadness in your life and that your marriage broke up because of it.”

As a Secret Service agent on protective duty in the White House, he knew he’d undergone the most extensive of background checks. He just hadn’t realized how extensive. If the government knew the reasons his marriage had ended, then they knew everything there was to know about Shane Tremont.

“What’s your point?” Shane asked bluntly.

At this juncture, he felt he had nothing else to lose. Elysee might believe her father wouldn’t cut him loose from protective detail because of his injury. Shane, however, harbored no such illusions. He was useless as a bodyguard, at least until his hand was fully functional again.

If that ever happens.

He swallowed hard. No. He wasn’t even going to entertain that thought. He would recover. Fully. Completely. He was determined.

Benedict took a sip of his brandy, but never took his eyes off Shane. “My daughter’s in love with you.”

Shane was bowled over. It wasn’t what he’d expected to hear. “I’m aware of that, sir.”

“Elysee told me that you kissed her.”

He tensed. Where was this conversation headed? He’d done it. He’d kissed her and he wasn’t a liar. “Yes, sir.”

“Why?”

“It felt like the right thing to do at the time.” Shane tried to gauge the President’s reaction and was surprised when he nodded.

“Do you have tender feelings for her?”

“I’m very fond of Elysee. We’re good friends.”

“I’m aware of the psychological bond that develops between a bodyguard and the person he’s protecting,” Benedict said. “Especially when the bodyguard saves the protectee’s life.”

“What exactly are you trying to say, sir?” Shane took a swig of the stout brandy. It burned his throat as he swallowed back the biting mouthful.

“I respect you, Tremont. But more than that, I like you. You’re honorable and straightforward. You don’t pull any punches, but you can be trusted to keep your mouth shut.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“With someone like you, I wouldn’t have to worry that Elysee would be taken care of,” he said.

“No, sir,” Shane said. “You have no worries on that score. I’d protect Elysee with my dying breath.”

Yeah? And how are you going to do that with a useless hand?

“And you’ve proven it.” Benedict kept nodding. “She couldn’t do any better than to marry a man like you.”

Marry?

Shane’s gaze flew to Nathan Benedict’s face. This was the first time such a notion had crossed his mind, but he felt that any man would be damned lucky to marry Elysee.

“Until now, she’s been picking these spineless peckerheads who are just interested in her because of who she is. But I don’t have to tell you that. You’ve been her bodyguard for over a year. You know.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Then she gets her heart broken when her flash-in-the-pan boyfriends realize they’ll have to sign a pre-nup agreement leaving them with nothing if they divorce her. Or they discover what it’s really like living in the
public eye and find out they’re never going to be stars just because they’ve glommed on to her. But you, you’re different. You really care.”

“I do care about Elysee, sir.” And he did. But just how deep did his feelings run? He was startled to realize how much he did care. It didn’t compare to what he’d felt for Tish of course, but he never wanted to feel that kind of chaotic madness again.

Benedict polished off his brandy with a long gulp; for the first time Shane realized the man was as nervous as he was. “Have you ever considered getting remarried? I know this sounds strange, but I’m worried about my little girl. I was forty-eight when she was born and I’m not going to be around forever. I’d like to see her happily married to a good man who’ll do right by her.”

“Sir, I…” Shane didn’t know what to think, much less say.

Nathan Benedict held up a hand. “Elysee loves you and you’re fond of her. You already know how easy she is to get along with. You kissed her. That means something.”

Did it? Shane stroked his chin.

“Whatever you decide, you have my undying gratitude for saving her life. If you hadn’t gotten between her and that backhoe…” Nathan let his voice trail off and Shane saw his eyes glisten with emotion. “You’re going to be compensated for that. And I want you to stay here at the ranch until your doctors release you from their care.”

“What about my job as Elysee’s bodyguard?”

Benedict shifted his weight and didn’t meet Shane’s eyes. “I don’t see how you can continue being her bodyguard, knowing she’s in love with you. But if you regain full function of your hand, we’ll find another protective detail for you.”

“And if Elysee and I were to get married? What then? What kind of work would I do?”

“How would you feel about heading up the Secret Service? Marshal Vega is retiring next year. The position has a lot of power. You’d be effecting policy, in charge of all my personal security, my life,” Nathan Benedict said with his unerring ability to read people. He’d figured out what motivated Shane most—the desire to protect and serve.

“Elysee is a wonderful girl.”

“She is.”

“Give it some thought, Shane. I’d be honored to call you son.”

He looked at the President and a feeling he’d never wrestled with came over him. He felt flattered and intrigued, honored, and yet he didn’t want to be given a job he hadn’t earned just because he’d married the President’s daughter. He also didn’t want to marry Elysee simply because it was the easiest thing to do.

“I have to be honest, sir. I have no idea how I truly feel. About Elysee. About the job. About myself.” He indicated his injured hand.

“I understand.” Benedict nodded. “You’ve got a lot to think about.”

“Yes,” he said. But deep within, Shane heard a soft voice whisper,
This is it. This is the way to let go of Tish forever.

The next afternoon, Elysee took Shane horseback riding around the perimeter of the ranch. The kitchen staff packed them a picnic lunch and the day was all blue sky, cool breeze, and autumn wildflowers in full bloom.

They ate their lunch beside the lake, dining on chicken salad sandwiches, carrot sticks, and fresh fruit. Elysee
talked animatedly about how she wanted to get involved with WorldFem. He could see the caring in her eyes, knew her heart ached over the injustices. They were so much alike in that respect. Both of them focused on making the world a better place, though each in their own way.

“What a team we could be,” she said. “Going around the world, fighting for women’s rights. I’d give speeches, visit women in need, head charity drives, raise funds, and you could be there to watch over me. Making it all possible. If only I could convince my father that I know what I’m doing and that with you at my side I wouldn’t get taken advantage of.”

“Elysee,” he said softly, “I’m afraid I can’t be your bodyguard.”

Alarm spread across her. “How come?”

He laid his right hand on the picnic blanket between them. “I can’t protect you, not with this.”

“You’re going to get full function back. You’re dedicated to your physical therapy and you’ve got the right mental attitude,” she encouraged.

“I’m trying my best, but I have to face the reality that no matter how hard I try, it might not ever happen. Besides, it’s more than the hand.”

“You’re quitting? But why would you walk away from a job you love?”

“It’s not that simple.”

She leaned forward, bracing her chin in her palm. “Explain it to me.”

He thought of his conversation with her father the night before. He thought about how lonely he’d been for the last two years. How much he’d loved being married until the worst had happened for him and Tish. How he’d like to have that kind of happiness back again. It was time to
release the past and move on. And Elysee, the one he was closest to, was the perfect person to do it with.

“I can’t continue being your bodyguard, under the circumstances.”

“What circumstances?”

He didn’t know what he was going to say. He hadn’t planned it, hadn’t even made up his mind for sure until the words were out of his mouth.

“Elysee Benedict, would you marry me?”

“What?” She blinked, looking completely caught off guard.

“Would you marry me?” he repeated.

Elysee squealed, knocking over the picnic basket on her way into his lap. She hugged his neck and rained kisses upon his face. “Yes, yes, yes!”