A Royal Mission

She didn’t care how many photographs the man had with himself and various dignitaries. He was obviously a nutcase. “That’s ridiculous. My mother and the Grand Duke? No way.” Realizing his hands were occupied with the coffee cups, Victoria made a grab for the gun. Lance cursed under his breath as she snapped the holster open and extracted the weapon.

Stepping back, holding the gun on him, Victoria frowned. “That was way too easy. Are there really bullets in this thing?”

“Yes, there are bullets,” he replied, setting aside the coffee cups. “I didn’t want you to get burned with the coffee. I gave your father my word, I would protect you from harm.”

His voice carried the ring of truth, but Victoria refused to be swayed. She was well aware that some sick minds could even fool lie detector machines. “You were just worried that if you tried to stop me, I would accidentally shoot you. Now get your hands up.”

“Women,” Lance muttered. Reaching across the space between them, his hand closed over the gun. “Give me back my weapon.”

Victoria ordered herself to pull the trigger. She couldn’t. Where his fingers touched hers a heat radiated through her, paralyzing her into inaction. Tears of frustration welled in her eyes as she released her hold.

Lance couldn’t believe he’d allowed her to get his gun. Normally he was much more alert. She was having a very disconcerting effect on him. That body, that face, those blue eyes, that long dark hair…she’d have a disconcerting effect on any man, he reasoned. What shocked him was that he wasn’t angry with her. In fact, he again found himself admiring her spunk. Seeing the tears in her eyes, he attempted to soothe her as he reholstered the gun. “You couldn’t have fired anyway. The safety was on.”