Chapter 17 #2
"I thought you might appreciate this," I said, gesturing to the collection. "The curator has prepared detailed information on each piece. Some date back to the Napoleonic Wars."
He moved towards a particularly fine cavalry sabre, his fingers hovering just above its polished surface. "This is unexpected."
"Consider it a thank you. And an apology."
"Neither is necessary."
"Both are," I countered. "Please, James. Just... accept this small gesture."
Something in my voice must have reached him, because the rigid line of his shoulders softened slightly.
For the next hour, we moved through the collection; the curator explained each weapon's historical significance whilst James listened with genuine interest. Occasionally, he would ask knowledgeable questions that revealed his military background, and I watched his face, the rare animation that transformed his features when something particularly impressed him.
After the curator departed, we stood alone among the historical artefacts. Our silence was different now—expectant rather than accusatory.
"Thank you," he said finally. "This was... thoughtful."
"I pay attention," I said simply. "Even when you think I don't."
His eyes met mine, holding for a long moment. "I never thought you didn't pay attention, Princess. I thought you didn't care."
The honesty in his voice caught me off guard. "I've always cared. Too much, probably."
I was about to respond when my phone buzzed with a text from Dara: "Halliwell arrived early. Looking for you both. He said something about wanting to 'scope the premises.’" I showed James the message, and his jaw tightened.
"He's supposed to be reviewing security protocols with the palace team," James muttered. "Not wandering around unsupervised."
The door opened abruptly before he could say more, and a voice boomed through the quiet space.
"There she is! The princess herself!" A tall man with sandy hair and a too-wide smile strode in. "Ran into Dara in the corridor—she mentioned you might be here. Hope that's alright."
He wore an expensive suit that seemed designed to emphasise his athletic build, and his handshake was aggressively firm as he reached for mine.
"Roger Halliwell, Your Highness. Your new security detail." His accent was American; his manner overly familiar. "Flight got in early, and I figured, why waste time sitting in a hotel when I could start familiarising myself with the setup. Hope you don't mind the intrusion."
I withdrew my hand as quickly as politeness allowed. "Mr Halliwell. I wasn't expecting you until tomorrow."
"Call me Roger, please." He winked—actually winked—and turned to James. "Banks, right? Heard good things. Don't worry, I'll take it from here. Got my team all ready to roll. State-of-the-art stuff, not the old-school approach."
James's face had gone completely expressionless, a sure sign of his intense dislike. "Mr Halliwell. We hadn't scheduled the handover briefing until 0900 tomorrow."
"There's no time like the present, right?" Roger clapped him on the shoulder, oblivious to how James tensed at the contact. "Figured I'd meet the princess, scope out the situation. "I've got some great ideas for upgrading the security protocols around here."
"The current protocols are more than adequate," James said, his voice dangerously calm.
Roger laughed. "Sure, sure. No offence, buddy. Just bringing a fresh perspective to the table. Twenty-first-century solutions, you know?"
I watched James's jaw clench, the muscle there jumping visibly. "If you'll excuse us, Mr Halliwell, the princess and I were in the middle of something."
"Oh yeah? Weapons tour?" Roger glanced around, unimpressed. "Old stuff, huh? I'm more of an innovation guy myself. Latest tech, latest methods."
"How fascinating," I said, unable to keep the frost from my voice. "Perhaps you could share your insights with Dara tomorrow. After your scheduled briefing."
Roger finally seemed to register the tension in the room.
"Right, sure thing, Your Highness. Just wanted to introduce myself. Make a good first impression." He backed towards the door with another too-bright smile. "Tomorrow then. Looking forward to working with you."
After he left, the silence stretched between us until James finally spoke.
"That's who they're replacing me with?" His voice was quiet but laced with disbelief. "A showboat with more confidence than competence?"
"I didn't choose him," the words blurted out, before I could stop them. "Dara briefed me on the palace security team's selection during the flight."
"He's not qualified to protect you," James stated flatly. "I'll speak with Dara immediately."
"Would it make a difference?" I asked, moving closer to him. "Would you stay if they asked?"
His eyes darkened as he looked down at me. "It's not that simple."
"What if I asked?" The words were barely above a whisper, hanging in the air between us.
"Princess—"
"Evangeline," I corrected softly. "My name is Evangeline."
The distance between us had somehow shrunk to mere inches, the heat of his body palpable even without touching.
"Evangeline," he conceded, my name in his deep voice sending a shiver down my spine. "I can't stay. You know that."
"But tonight you're still here," I said, gathering my courage. "And I know I'll regret it forever if I don't tell you how I feel."
His breath hitched almost imperceptibly. "Evangeline..."
"I don't want comfort or control," I said, moving closer. "I want you. Not because you're paid to protect me, but because of who you are. Because of how you see me."
I reached up, my fingers lightly touching his jaw. "I'm saying I want you, James. Just for tonight. Before everything goes back to the way it was."
For one breathless moment, I thought he might give in. His pupils dilated, his body leaning infinitesimally towards mine.
Then he stepped back, breaking the connection. "That would be a mistake."
"Why?" I challenged, heat flooding my cheeks. "We're both adults. No strings attached. One night, and then you go back to London, I stay here, and we never have to see each other again."
"Because," he said, his voice rough with restraint, "you deserve someone who can stay.
Someone who can give you more than stolen moments between assignments.
" His eyes were pained now. "You're not some traumatised victim looking for comfort—you're stronger than that.
But I'm not the right man for you, regardless. "
The rejection stung more than I'd anticipated. "That's not what this is."
"Isn't it?" His eyes were almost gentle despite his harsh words. "You've been through a traumatic experience. You're looking for comfort, for control. I understand that. But I won't take advantage of you."
"James! This isn’t a trauma response….I want US to be together, if only for tonight," I insisted.
He shook his head. "Get some rest, Princess. I'll see you tomorrow to complete the handover with Halliwell."
As he walked away, head high and shoulders rigid, I felt both humiliation and a strange sort of respect burning through me.
He'd rejected me not out of disinterest—I'd seen the want in his eyes, felt the tension in his body when I'd touched him.
He'd rejected me out of principle, out of some misguided notion that he wasn't good enough, or that I was too fragile to know my mind.
It should have been the end of it. But as I watched him disappear down the corridor, I realised something: James Banks had spent months protecting me from external threats. Now he was trying to protect me from himself.
But what if I didn't want his protection? What if I wanted his surrender instead?
This wasn't over. Roger Halliwell might take over tomorrow, but James Banks wasn't gone yet.
And I had one more day to make him understand that what was between us had nothing to do with trauma or desperation, and everything to do with the man he was—the only man who'd ever seen past the princess to the woman beneath.