“The man from the ferry. He was on the dock, watching us.” Watching her, but he wouldn’t say it that way.
After a slight nod, he could see her try to take a deep breath.
Whatever happened to her that meant she wouldn’t do the water activities clearly wasn’t something insignificant.
He took her hat and set it aside, then covered her hands with his own. “I’m right here,Amalia mín.” That he’d reverted to the Icelandic term of endearment sometimes used in his country told him just how strongly he’d felt about getting her on board. He’d never have done so otherwise.
Moving to sit next to her, Ryker did something that surprised even himself and put an arm around her shoulders.
“I’m right here,” he told her again.
The princess leaned into him, as close as she could get, and clutched the front of his shirt in one of her hands. “Don’t let me go.”
* * *
With Ryker’sarm around her shoulders, Amalia almost felt safe.
Almost.
When he’d first used her name, along with what she suspected had been a term of endearment, she’d known something had to be amiss.
It had taken every ounce of courage in her to walk up the gangplank and then step onto the deck.
Anyone watching would have known.
Ryker knew.
But helped her do it anyway.
Because she was likely in danger.
Her security team would have dragged her on board, either kicking and screaming or, more likely, stumbling along because legs simply moved without thinking about it in those kinds of situations.
That had only happened a couple of times in her public life, when there had been a perceived threat, and they’d decided she needed to move - now.
Amalia curled farther into Ryker’s side as he tightened his hold on her shoulders.
“I’m not going anywhere.”
She could feel him kiss the top of her head and tried to force herself to relax a bit. Her hand still held tightly to his shirt, but the extreme tension in her shoulders dissipated the tiniest amount.
“What was it?” she asked again. He’d already told her, but she hadn’t absorbed it.
“The man from the ferry was on the dock.”
Resting against him as she was, Amalia could feel the vibrations from his words as well as hear them. “Are you sure?” She’d looked around but hadn’t seen him.
“I am. He didn’t look the same, but I know it was him.”
That would explain it. “How could you know for certain if he looked so different?” Her security team would have known. Could he do something in that line of work for a living?
She felt him shrug. “I just did. The portion of the dock where the yacht was had significantly more security than we’ve seen so far. I don’t know that one thing has anything to do with the other, but if he was following us, then at least there would be people around to help keep you safe.”
“Why is there extra security?” Could someone have discovered where she’d gone? Were they trying to intercept her?
“I don’t know. Maybe something to do with the special guests on Biansola?”
It seemed as logical as anything else she could come up with through her fear. “How long is the boat ride?”
