Princess: A Private Novel(2)

Chapter 2


MORGAN STEPPED FROM the jet into a balmy morning of English summer.

“Beautiful day, isn’t it?” the man waiting on the tarmac beamed.

Morgan took in the uniformed figure—Colonel Marcus De Villiers was every inch the tall, impressive man that Morgan remembered from two years ago, when Private had rescued a young royal from the bloody clutches of her kidnappers. De Villiers had been a sneering critic of Morgan and his agents then, and Morgan was certain that, beneath the smile, the sentiment was still strong.

“It is a beautiful day, Colonel, but you weren’t so keen to exchange pleasantries last time we met,” Morgan replied. “After I refused to cover up the Duke of Aldershot’s involvement in the kidnapping of his own daughter.”

“All’s well that ends well.” De Villiers shrugged, trying hard to keep his smile in place.

“The Duke died before he got to trial and faced justice.” Morgan shook his head. “I wouldn’t call that ending well.”

“One could say that death is the most absolute form of justice, Mr. Morgan, but that’s beside the point. The whole business went away quietly, which was very well received where it matters.”

“If you’ve brought me here to boast that a royal scandal stayed out of the papers, Colonel, then you’re wasting my time. I took this meeting out of respect for the people you represent, but I’m ready to step back onto this jet and head home if you don’t tell me in the next ten seconds why I’m here.”

“Very well, Mr. Morgan. I didn’t bring you here to boast about avoiding a royal scandal. I brought you here to prevent the next one.”





Chapter 3


MORGAN JOINED DE Villiers in the blacked-out Range Rover that waited beside the landed jet. The Colonel would divulge no more information, but he had said enough to get Morgan’s attention.

The men were driven from London’s outskirts into the lush green countryside of Surrey, where multimillion-pound properties nestled in woodlands. It was beautiful, and Morgan watched it roll by the tinted windows as he considered who he might be heading to meet, and why.

The British royal family was large, with Queen Elizabeth II at its head and dozens of members tied in by blood or marriage, but Morgan had some clue as to who they were driving to see in the English countryside. Colonel De Villiers had once told Morgan that the family’s inner circle was his concern, so the American was either on his way to meet the Queen herself, or one of her closest family.

Morgan allowed himself a smile at the thought. Here he was, an American—and once an American serviceman at that—driving to meet the monarchy that his nation had fought against for their independence. The fact that the bloodiest relationships could be repaired made him pause and look to De Villiers. There were enough people in the world that wished Morgan dead. Why not take a lesson from the United States and the United Kingdom?

“Thank you for inviting me here,” Morgan said to the Colonel. “It really is a beautiful day, and a beautiful country.”

“It is.” The Colonel nodded. “But don’t let it fool you. At this time of year, you can get the four seasons in a day.”

The Range Rover left the main road and entered a long driveway flanked by woodland. It would have been hard for anyone to spot the two armed men camouflaged among the trees, but Jack Morgan was not just anyone.

“Relax.” De Villiers smiled, seeing Morgan tense. “They’re ours.”

As the Range Rover came to a stop and crunched the gravel, Morgan took in the exquisite Georgian farmhouse of ivy-covered red brick that stood before him.

“It looks like something out of a fairy tale.” He smiled, allowing himself to relax.

But then, as the house’s green door opened, Morgan’s pulse began to quicken. It was not the sight of more armed men that caused it, but the figure that walked by them and into the dappled sunshine.

Morgan stood straight as he was approached by one of the most famous women in the world.

Her name was Princess Caroline.





Chapter 4


THE PRINCESS PUT out her hand, offering it to Jack Morgan as he stepped away from the Range Rover.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Morgan,” she said.

“Please, call me Jack, Your Highness,” Morgan answered, feeling himself bow on instinct.

“Let’s take a walk, Jack. De Villiers tells me that you’re the person I need to speak to.”

Morgan looked to De Villiers, surprised that such praise would come from the Colonel. De Villiers’ face gave nothing away, nor did he move to follow as Princess Caroline led Morgan away from the courtyard.

“It’s too nice a day to be inside,” she explained as they entered a walled garden. Bright red strawberries clung to the planters. “Try one,” she insisted.

Morgan raised his eyebrows as he bit down on the fruit and the juice hit his tongue. With food in his mouth, he had the excuse he needed to keep it shut—introductions to a mission always worked better when he let the client do the talking. Nothing brought out the little details as well as just keeping quiet and allowing the other person to fill the dead space.

“This place belongs to a friend of mine,” Caroline offered up against the silence. “Aside from my security detail, there aren’t many people who know that I come here. I like it. It’s quiet and it’s close enough to London that I can sneak off here for some peace without it being noticed. I hope you know how to keep a secret, Jack.”