Betrothed to the Prince. Raye Morgan

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СКАЧАТЬ could hardly breathe. He was holding her to his long, strong body and she thought she could feel every one of his muscles against her back. Her natural inclination was to do as he said and turn toward the left, but one second of clear thinking and she realized what that meant. She might be in his arms now, but if she followed his instructions she would be in his embrace and in perfect position to be kissed.

      A lovely thought—if only she could believe he wasn’t doing this on purpose just to mock her. Which, of course, he was! She steeled herself. She wasn’t going to follow through and fall into his trap. Instead, she made another move her personal defense trainer had taught her and quickly raised her foot, coming down hard on top of his.

      He yelled. She pulled out of his grip, whirling to glare at him hotly. Half-laughing, he was hobbling in pain.

      “My God, woman, you’re lethal. I was just trying to show you…”

      She raised her hands as though to defend herself. “Stay back!” she ordered him.

      And at the same time, the cook came bustling in through the outer doorway, her hair damp, her look very cross. She took in the scene at a glance, nodded at Tianna, and glared daggers at the man standing beside her.

      “Young mister, you know the rules,” she said sternly, shaking a finger at him. “There’s to be no trifling with the help.” She all but stamped her foot and pointed to show him the way out of her kitchen.

      “Trifling?” He glanced at Tianna and shook his head, laughing softly. “Don’t worry. This lady is definitely a no-trifling zone.”

      His gaze met hers and held for a moment, then he turned his full charm on the cook.

      “That you, of all people, should accuse me of trifling.” He had the confident smile of a man who had used charisma as his currency out of many a sticky situation in his life and was pretty sure it would work for him again, any time he chose to use it. “I was doing no such thing. I was merely keeping a visitor company while waiting for you to return and do your duty by her.”

      The cook was still pointing. “If you want to practice your profligate ways, you’ll do so somewhere else,” she insisted. “I’ve got work to do here.”

      The handsome charmer reacted with weary resignation.

      “Aye aye, Cook.” He gave her a somewhat disjointed salute, then leaned toward her teasingly. “My mentor, my conscience, my guide. As ever, words of wisdom fall from your lips like petals from the rose….”

      The cook colored and had a hard time not showing pleasure at his affectionate mockery. “Get on with you.” She swatted at him with a dish towel, but she was beaming in a way that gave full evidence to how much she cared for him. “And keep your crazy poetry to yourself.”

      “Hey, watch that talk,” he said as he prepared to depart. “You know I have to maintain my reputation as a soldier. Don’t start spreading that poetry rumor.”

      He stopped to drop a quick kiss on the cook’s cheek, then dodged another swipe with the dish towel as he made his way toward the exit. Tianna noted with a twinge of guilty satisfaction that he was limping slightly. He paused in the doorway, looking back.

      “Goodbye, lovely lady,” he said to Tianna just before disappearing out the door. “I hope we meet again.” A fleeting smile, and then he was gone.

      Tianna thought she’d probably seen the last of him and was disappointed in herself for caring. She had to admit, it would be tempting to let herself get a healthy crush on a man like that, to start thinking about the scent of roses and kisses in the moonlight. The only love affair she’d let herself attempt had ended badly and had seemed hardly worth the effort in the end. She had the feeling things might have been different with a man like this.

      “He’s got a heart of gold, that one,” the cook confided once he was out of the room. “But he does tease so.”

      Tianna smiled, her pulse still reacting to the man’s presence in the room. “Is he your son?”

      The cook looked shocked. “My son? Heaven’s no. My dear, don’t you know who that is? Why, it’s Prince Garth, that’s who.”

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