Free The Princess and the Bodyguard by Morgan Ashbury

took mental note of the scenery. Yes, she could use this.
    How excellent that they paid attention. Let them have their boats going back and forth, and their guards parading around. She wasn’t going to do it at the palace, but it would happen, and soon.
    She would rid the world of the runt. She’d already settled on her plan. And it was perfect.

Chapter 8
     
    She couldn’t see them, but she could hear them, and they were everywhere.
    Shivers racked her as she tried to listen, tried to figure out where they waited. But she could only hear them scratching and clawing, and she knew they would find her and then start to nibble on her flesh.
    “Look at the baby shaking on the floor. Crawl into the corner, baby, maybe the rats won’t get you there.”
    Echoing off the walls, the voice sounded evil, taunting, and the laughter, the laughter was worse. How many people pointed, laughing at her? Terror flooded her in great, soaking waves. Whimpering, she crawled across the filthy floor until, wall against her back, she could crawl no farther. She huddled in the corner and, oh God, the rats came closer and closer.
    Rachel shot bolt upright in her bed, her heart pounding, her breath hitching as she scanned the room and reassured herself she was in her own apartment, in her own bed. The small Tiffany lamp on the vanity that she kept turned on every night threw enough light that she could navigate. Tossing the blankets aside, she pulled on her robe, then padded across the bedroom to the enormous high-backed armchair in the corner. Pulling her feet up after her, she huddled in the chair to wait for the echoes of the nightmare to fade.
    This had been the second night this week. Always unsettling, she’d nearly convinced herself these night terrors had ended. Until reading those letters. The hatred in them, and her fear, brought the nightmares back.
    The first time she had the terrifying dream had been a few weeks after Philip had found her, half dead from a drug overdose. Cocaine. She knew she’d not taken any before. Yeah, she’d smoked some marijuana, tried a bit of hash oil. But she’d told Luc she didn’t want the coke and had been naïve enough to believe that would be the end of it.
    She’d been naïve and stupid thinking Luc to be in love with her when all the time he’d planned to use her to extort money from her family.
    Thank God Philip had found her, though he’d never said how he’d accomplished the feat. She had her suspicions, but Peter had never said a word, one way or another.
    Peter. The increased tension between them wasn’t helping her sleep easier, either. It had been three days since she’d issued her challenge, three days since she’d sat on her father’s lap and confessed all. And in that time, they hadn’t even come face to face.
    He’d cleared almost all of the candidates she’d chosen for interview and sent the files back to her via the same route he’d received them. Poor Gina, Rachel thought fondly, had earned a bonus for all the running back and forth she’d been forced to do.
    Maybe today things would be better. She had a luncheon appointment with one of the fashion consultants from Haute Mode magazine. She and Peter would have to see each other then, since she would have to leave the palace. But first, she wanted to go to her shop. She wanted to inspect the work being done. If all went well, she’d be interviewing potential staff there in a couple of days.
    Today, she’d be a businesswoman, giving her first interview about her new business. There had been so many requests for interviews that she’d considered hiring someone who could work as her assistant, someone who could go through these kinds of things and advise her of the best way to proceed, but she’d decided against it. This was her baby, and she wanted to be involved in every aspect of it. Later, if she became too busy with designing and making her line, she’d reconsider hiring an assistant.
    Stifling a yawn, she turned