Defending the Duchess. Rachelle McCalla
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his face. Then he’d never learn what doubts had clouded her eyes.
He cleared his throat. “You probably want to forget all about what happened this evening, but before you do that, I need to know everything you were able to observe about your attacker, any clues you might have that would help us identify him.”
“I couldn’t see him in the darkness. He was wearing a mask.”
“I know,” Linus acknowledged, thinking quickly. He’d already been briefed about the queen’s little sister before he was assigned to guard her, so he knew a few things about her background, and could guess how that might get in her way. “You’re a lawyer, right?”
“A trial lawyer.”
Having testified in court before about work-related cases, Linus knew about her line of work. “In court, you have to know things with certainty and be convinced of guilt or innocence beyond a shadow of a doubt.”
“Yes.” She spoke the word slowly as she looked up at him through the misty moonlight. Obviously she had to wonder where he was going with his line of reasoning.
“Right now I need the opposite from you. I know you can’t say with any certainty who attacked you, but I want to know your hunches, your gut instincts, your fears. Anything you might have picked up on that would give us a clue about this guy.” Linus watched her carefully as he spoke. Even in the moonlight, he could see enough of her face to tell that his own hunch had been correct.
She knew something.
He just had to convince her that it was okay to tell him what it was.
“It’s not anything.” Julia shook her head dismissively.
Still, Linus felt hopeful. The woman had enough of a grasp on what she knew to discredit it. That meant she could likely put it into words if he could persuade her that it would be acceptable to do so—even if that went directly against her usual practice as a trial lawyer. He waited patiently.
“Back home,” she started softly, then pinched her eyes shut. She clearly felt foolish uttering the words out loud.
“Back home?” Linus repeated, prompting her.
“Seattle,” she clarified. “Seven thousand miles from here.” She huffed a tiny laugh. “Who would be crazy enough to follow me halfway around the world?”
She spoke so softly Linus had to strain to hear her. And yet, as her words sank in, he felt a distinct chill. Had the duchess been threatened even before she left home? If she hadn’t been the victim of a random attack, she could be targeted again. Especially if her attacker had already traveled so far to get his hands on her.
“Tell me what you suspect,” he prompted softly.
“He said something.” She shook her head slightly, but her eyes had met his. “I couldn’t have heard him correctly.”
“Tell me what you think you heard.” He locked on her gaze and held her attention, focusing on imparting a sense of trust, of safety, of acceptance. “The smallest clue can be important,” he assured her as doubt rose in her eyes.
She almost smiled then, resignedly, and opened her mouth.
Then a small electronic sound cut through the silent night.
“My phone!” Julia pulled back from him and reached for a small zippered pocket on her shorts. “I have a text.”
Linus felt his hopes deflate. Whatever Julia had been going to tell him, she wasn’t likely to speak up now.
Important as it seemed, his concern about her confession dimmed the moment Julia read the message on her phone.
“Oh, my—” she covered her mouth with one hand, looked up at him with terrified eyes, and whispered past her fingers “—no.”
THREE
Did you get what I sent you?
Julia stared at the words, trembling, not just because of the message they implied, but because of the sender.
“What is it?” Linus had been propping her up, and now leaned nearer, the injuries to his face more painful-looking up close.
Julia pinched her eyes shut against the sight.
Linus lifted her hand and read the message on the screen of her phone. “What?” He repeated. “Did you get something?”
“No.” She shook her head adamantly. “I didn’t get anything. I don’t know what it means.”
“Julia.” Linus spoke softly, his touch soothing as he propped her up. “Talk to me. I saw your reaction. This message frightened you. Why?”
“Did you get what I sent you,” she repeated, praying the worlds didn’t mean what she feared they meant. “What does that mean?”
“A delivery of some sort? A package?”
“Or a surprise visitor.” She didn’t want to believe the attack and the message were related, and yet...
“Your attacker?” Linus took the phone from her trembling hand. “Who’s the sender? Who is this Fletcher Pendleton?”
“It’s complicated.” Julia tried to straighten out her thoughts. What was the best way to explain?
“Let’s get inside.” Linus scooped his arm around her waist again, lifting her up to her toes as he guided her toward one of the rear doors of the palace. “Then I need you to tell me.”
Emotionally drained, Julia leaned on Linus as he guided her inside, grateful for his steady arm to lean on and his apt understanding of the situation. They needed to get inside before her sister noticed her hobbling across the courtyard and came to check on her. More than that, they needed to sort out what was going on. Had Fletcher sent the thug who’d attacked her on the beach?
She hated to think he’d do such a thing. And yet, given his antics of late, she could almost believe he had.
Linus settled Julia onto a wood-inlaid fainting couch in one of the palace receiving rooms. The cozy parlor was near the rear of the palace and appeared to be seldom used, so they weren’t likely to be interrupted. Besides that, it was close to the door, so she didn’t have to hobble very far to reach it.
“Are you comfortable? Do you need anything?” The muscular guard, his injuries still untended, looked at her earnestly. Julia couldn’t imagine how he could be so concerned about her comfort while his own eyebrow continued to leak blood at a slow trickle.
Linus swiped at his forehead with the back of his hand, his gaze never wavering from her face.
Julia felt a spear of guilt. She wanted to fetch a first-aid kit or at the very least a cube of ice for his swollen lip. The man had done so much to protect her, and now seemed determined to get the sofa pillows arranged around her in the optimum position to ease the pressure on her leg. Were all the royal guards so perfectly sweet and attentive? Julia couldn’t recall a time when she’d felt so pampered.
“Now.” Linus plunked an ottoman beside the fainting couch and sat, meeting her eyes. “Fletcher Pendleton?”
“He’s an engineer. He’s brilliant. Probably going to be a millionaire. Or he was.” She realized her initial assessment of the man was now grossly out of date.
“How do you know him?”
Julia sighed and thought back in time. It had been one of her first cases as a lawyer. She’d been so eager to do everything right, so earnest, so thorough. In spite of the many cases she’d dealt with since, that one stood out in her mind.
“Fletcher Pendleton created an ultra-efficient engine design for cars. But he was working for a small automotive company at the time, a branch of a successful tech company, Seattle Electronics. Since he was working for Seattle Electronics when he designed the engine for them, they held the patent