The Heir and his Body Guard Chapter 1/20?

[vatulele.livejournal.com]

Title: The Heir and His Bodyguard
Author: Vatulele
Rating: R
Pairing: Viggo/Orlando
Summary: AU Orlando is a young heir who escapes an arranged marriage to fulfill his dream in the Spanish countryside but Orlando’s parents send Viggo a highly trained guard of the kingdom to bring him home…but Orlando’s not having it.
Based on the book “The Virgin and her Bodyguard” by Mindy Neff
Feedback: Sure doesn't everyone like some?
Disclaimer: None of this is mine; the basic idea was taken from Mindy Neff and her novel. 

Chapter 1

     Viggo Mortensen was damned good at his job. He could track anyone or anything he was assigned. His keen instincts had never failed him. It wasn’t at all like him to question himself, but right now…things weren’t looking too promising. He must have gotten lost.
     He checked the address he’d found. The villa in the small Spanish village perched along the hills in southern Spain was the right one, but the sight that greeted him wasn’t. Neither was the man.
     He’d expected dark brown hair styled neatly; he’d also mistakenly assumed he’d be wearing a posh business suit with patent leather shoes.
     But Orlando Bloom didn’t hold up to any of his expectations. He’d let his coifed hair grow out into his usually repressed waves and sun-kissed streaks highlighted his dark hair. Pushed behind his ears his hair nearly reached his shoulders. He wore a dark t-shirt, and a pair of loose, faded jeans.
     Stunned by the handsome heir’s casual, everyday appearance, it was a moment before his senses registered the rest of the scene. His villa, which he now realized doubled as a photography studio, was filled with baby paraphernalia. A crib, painted a light shade of yellow was pushed against the far wall. Two mismatched rocking chairs sat beneath open windows draped in linen that fluttered lazily in the gentle May breeze. Toys were strewn about the hardwood floors, spilling out of a mesh sided playpen.
     In the corner there were oversized stuffed animals in a rainbow of pastels nestled against a bed of green cotton. And in the center was a baby, completely covered in pink fuzz with only its tiny round face peeking out of the costume. It was the cutest thing Viggo had ever seen.
     He leaned against the doorjamb and watched as Orlando snapped pictures and all but stood on his head to entertain the infant. Viggo admired his skill and once again felt that tickling of surprise.
     He had no doubt that he’d balk when he stated his mission, to bring him home to England where he could be properly protected.
     Pushing away from the doorway, he moved into the room, making mental note to speak with him about leaving his front door wide open. Engrossed in snapping pictures, and shaking his hips to the beat of U2’s greatest hits, Orlando Bloom hadn’t yet realized anyone had breached his sanctuary.
     That is, until his Viggo’s step landed on a stuffed panda bear that let out a loud squeak.
     Viggo froze as the baby amid the stuffed animals turned wide, startled eyes on him. In delayed reaction, the infant’s eyes widened and its tiny face crumbled as it began to wail….This day was going down hill fast.
     Orlando whipped around, nearly losing hold of his prized camera. His heart tripped as he started at the man just inside the doorway. Tall and handsome, he had a half smile on his face, an expression he knew from past experience that he used when he was determined to get his way. He was a man who was great to look at, but a definite thorn in his side.
     Viggo Mortensen. 
    “Holy shit, you scared me! What do you want?” Though his insides quaked with emotions that weren’t entirely based on surprise, he carefully stepped between the stuffed animals and lifted baby Milo, soothing the fur-covered infant. “There, there, mijo, don’t cry.” His native English accent gave the Spanish words a smoky quality that got the baby’s attention.
     It evidently got Viggo’s too, because he still hadn’t spoken.
    “Why have you come Viggo?” he asked again.
    “To bring you home.”
     Orlando shook his head, grateful that the child in his arms masked his trembling. Absurdly, Viggo had always set his system off balance. “In Case you hadn’t noticed, I am in the middle of something here.” He reached for the remote and turned down the stereo.
     Viggo tossed the toy panda in the air and caught it, his large palm squeezing another squeak out of it, and casually leaned one shoulder against the wall.
    “I’ll wait,” he said congenially.
    The intensity of his blue eyes, speared Orlando, rooting him to the spot. He wore a deep-charcoal suit with a blue shirt that matched his eyes and a Windsor-knotted tie. Almost always proper in his dress, Viggo Mortensen would definitely look out of place in this artisan town. Orlando’s phone would be ringing off the hook any minute now with neighbors wanting to know who the handsome stranger was.
Shifting the baby in his arms, he arched a brow, “You’ll have a very long wait I think. I have no intention of returning to England any time soon.” Perversely he hit the volume increase button on the stereo’s remote.
    “Rebellion,” Viggo muttered.
    “Independence,” Orlando countered.
     Viggo set the plastic alligator on a table and moved around the room, still keeping an eye on Orlando, making him even more nervous. Orlando tried to ignore Viggo, to look busy and wondered if he noticed if he was failing miserably.
Probably, not much got past Viggo Mortensen. There was a certain toughness beneath the civilized manor. He was fairly certain a shoulder harness and a gun rested underneath his tailored suit jacket. The man was both sharp and deadly. 
    “I wonder,” he mused, “whether it was rebellion or independence that made you jilt a royal princess at the altar.”
     Orlando’s heart did a funny tumble. It had been six months but he was still surprised at himself. He’d never done anything so daring in his life. Brought up to be diplomatic and proper with never a hair out of place, running off to pursue art instead of marrying the princess he’d been betrothed to since birth had taken courage he hadn’t known he possessed.
    “Neither,” he answered. With the child on his hip, he repositioned his tripod to catch the best light, wondering if he could get a few more shots before baby Milo’s mother returned. “Anyone could see that Brandon and Princess Kate were in love. I did the nice thing and made the path clear for them.”
    “At the expense of your family’s displeasure.”
     He shrugged. “They’ll get over it.”
    “True. They are no longer upset but they would like for you to return home.”
    “No.”
     Viggo’s eyebrows knit together. He reached over and turned down the stereo’s volume. “Do you think U2 is the best music for a baby?” 
   “Milo does not understand the words. It is the beat he responds to.”
   “As do you.”
    Orlando realized he was moving his hips in time with “All I Want Is You”, and abruptly stopped. He felt his face flame at being caught. The half smile on Viggo’s lips told him he too was responding to the ‘beat’.
    Impatiently, he fiddled with his lens cap. “State the rest of your business Viggo. I am busy and need to get back to work.” 
   “I don’t remember this testy side of you.”
   “You never knew the sides of me.” 
   “You might be surprised by how much I knew.”
    Growing irritated now, he blew out a breath, taking care not to squeeze Milo in his agitation. The very softness of his voice sent chills up his spine and made his heart pound. If he didn’t know better, he would suspect Viggo of coming on to him.
    This made him wary. He was an heir, practically royalty in his own right. He’d learned a tough lesson with Stuart though. He’d supported his love of art, given him the courage to leave England. He’d though Stuart cared about him.
    They agreed to meet in Spain, made plans to become famous artists, Stuart a painter, Orlando a photographer.
    But when his father Harry Bloom had, thrown such a fit at his disappearance and insisted he would disinherit him, Stuart had shown his true colors and had bolted without even unpacking his bags. He’d wanted his money. Not him. Stuart had been nice to him for a reason, and because of that experience Orlando was wary and on guard. Now with Viggo, he intended to double those walls. He was the head of the Royal Guard a trusted confidant of both King Ridley of England and his own father. It had always been Viggo’s job to protect him. It was what he was paid to do.

Next chapter comming soon.

Comments

[tati.livejournal.com]

still missed a couple :)
had taken courage he hadn’t known she possessed.
he repositioned his tripod to catch the best light, wondering if she could get a few more shots

looks interesting :) what kind of book is this?

[vatulele.livejournal.com]

*blush* fixed. Thank you for catching those. Next time no writing at one in the morning. :P