The Prince's Stolen Virgin. Maisey Yates

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ How long was I...? How long was I asleep?” She posed the question to the nurse that she noticed standing just behind him. It was weird that he had kissed her. And she was going to get to that in a moment. But first she was trying to get a handle on how disoriented she felt.

      “You were unconscious. Only for an hour or so.”

      “Oh.” She pushed down on the mattress, trying to sit up.

      “Now be careful,” he said. “You might have a concussion.”

      “What happened?”

      “You crossed the street right in front of a taxi. I was unable to stop you.”

      She vaguely remembered him calling after her, and her continuing to walk on. Feeling slightly frantic as she did. Logically, she knew that her parents were overprotective. She knew that they had been hypervigilant in instilling the concept of stranger danger to her, but she had taken it on board, even knowing that it was a little bit over the top.

      They had told her that she had to be particularly careful because Robert was a high-profile physician who often worked with politicians and helped write legislation pertaining to the healthcare system, and that made him something of a target. She had to be extra vigilant because of that, and because of the fact that they were wealthy.

      It had made her see the bogeyman in any overly friendly stranger on the street as a child, but she supposed it had kept her safe. Until she had met him and run out in front of a car.

      Her parents. She wondered if anyone had called them. They wouldn’t be expecting her home until evening.

      “Excuse me...” But the nurse had rushed out of the room, presumably to get a doctor? She didn’t know why the woman hadn’t stopped to check her vitals.

      “My father is a doctor,” she said, looking back up at José. That was his name. That was what he had said his name was.

      “That is good to know,” he said, a slight edge in his voice that she hadn’t heard earlier.

      “If he hasn’t been called already, somebody should get in touch with him. He’s going to want input on my treatment.”

      “I’m sorry,” José said, straightening.

      Suddenly, his face looked different to her. Sharper, harder. Her heart thundered dully, a strange lick of fear moving through her body.

      “You’re sorry about what?”

      “It isn’t going to be possible for your father to have input on your treatment. Because you’re going to be moved.”

      “I am?”

      “Yes. It seems to me that you are stable, and that has been confirmed by my nurse.”

      “Your nurse?”

      He sighed heavily, lifting his hand and checking his watch. Then he adjusted the cuff on his jacket, the mannerism curt and officious. “Yes. My nurse,” he said, sounding exasperated as though he was explaining something to a small child. “You do not have to worry. You will be treated by my doctor once we arrive in Santa Milagro.”

      “Where is that? I don’t understand.”

      “You don’t know where Santa Milagro is? I do question the American school system in that case. It is truly a shame that you had to be brought up here, Talia.”

      Something niggled at her, something strange and steep. As deep as those wistful feelings she often felt when the air began to cool. “My name isn’t Talia.”

      “Right. Briar.” His smile took on a sardonic twist. “My mistake.”

      “The fact that I don’t know where Santa Milagro is is not the biggest issue we have. The biggest issue is that I’m not going to see your doctor. You’re just a crazy man that I met on the street. For all I know you stole that coat—it is a really nice coat—and you’re actually an insane vagrant.”

      “A vagrant? No. Insane? Well. That matter is fully up for debate. I won’t lie.”

      “José—”

      “My name isn’t José. I’m Prince Felipe Carrión de la Viña Cortez. And you, my dear Briar, are mine by rights. I have spent a great many years looking for you, and now I have finally found you. And you’re coming with me.”

       CHAPTER TWO

      PRINCE FELIPE CARRIÓN DE LA VIÑA CORTEZ had yet to lose sleep over any of his actions. As long as he steered clear of covert murders to further his political status, he was better than his father.

      A low bar, certainly. But Felipe liked a low bar. They were so much easier to step over.

      And while this might be the lowest he’d stooped, it was also going very well. Surely if he wasn’t supposed to have Princess Talia she wouldn’t have delivered herself quite so beautifully to him.

      Well, the part where she was hit by a taxi was perhaps not ideal, but it had certainly made the second half of his scheme easier. Because she was now confined to a hospital bed, being wheeled through an empty corridor—something he was pleased he’d arranged, because she was yelling for help, and it was much nicer to not have to deal with anyone trying to come to her aid—and he was going to have her undergo a quick check by a privately hired physician before having her loaded onto the plane.

      He was covering all his bases, and truly, being quite generous.

      Though he supposed the kiss hadn’t been wholly necessary. But remembering the way she had jolted when she’d seen him on the street, he had wondered. Wondered if there was enough electricity between them to shock her awake.

      It had worked, apparently.

      Other men might feel some guilt over kissing an unconscious woman. Not this man.

      Not with this woman.

      She was owed to him. Owed to Santa Milagro. She should be thankful that he was the one who had found her. Had it been his father...

      Well. Yet more reasons Felipe would be losing no sleep over this. Life with him would be a kindness by comparison.

      Though it was clear to him that his princess did not see it now.

      “Are you insane?” She was still shouting, and he was becoming bored with it.

      “As previously mentioned, it is entirely possible that I’m crazy. However, hurling it around like an epithet is hardly going to help.”

      She looked up at him, her dark eyes blazing, the confusion from earlier cleared from them. Even now—in a hospital gown—she was beautiful. Though her rich skin tone would be better served in golds, colors like gems. Not the sallow, white and blue cloth her slight curves were currently covered by.

      No, he would see her dressed like a queen, which she soon would be. His queen. Once his father died and Felipe assumed the throne.

      He СКАЧАТЬ