Claiming His Princess: Duty at What Cost? / A Throne for the Taking / Princess in the Iron Mask. Kate Walker

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СКАЧАТЬ now she could barely resist the urge to explore this stranger’s muscular physique. She thought she heard him blow out a hard breath and, slightly embarrassed at her temerity, quickly moved her fingers to his narrow hips. the roll of muscle there told her that he worked out. A lot.

      Fortunately it took no time for the spirited stallion to make it to the main buildings. Unfortunately it was still long enough for the friction from the saddle and his body to make the space between her legs feel soft and moist.

      Mon Dieu.

      Yes, it had been a long time since she had been intimate with a man, but this one was so not her type…

      Focusing on her surroundings, instead of the man she could feel with every cell of her body, she realised they weren’t at the stables but at one of the side entrances to the main building.

      About to ask what they were doing there, she stopped when he twisted around in the saddle, grabbed her under her arm and effortlessly lifted her off the horse. Ava felt the slide of his thigh all the way down her body and closed her eyes briefly to block out the rush of heat coursing through her. When her feet finally touched the ground she locked her knees to take her weight and had to force herself to push away from his heat.

      ‘Any time you want to learn how to fly again, Princess, you just call me, okay?’

      Ava curled her lip, but before she could come up with a pithy retort he had dug his heels into the stallion and was gone.

      Thank God. It would take two top-of-the-line masseurs to work the tension out of her back after that!

      ‘Ma’am? Are you lost?’

      A footman materialised at her side, and it was only then that Ava registered that her ‘captor’ had set her down in a private part of the castle, far from the prying eyes of arriving guests. It was probably more because he was used to using the servants’ entrance than out of any actual consideration for her, but even as she had the ungrateful thought she had a feeling she was wrong.

      Wolfe stood on the lime-green lawn at the side of the white marquee set up as a servers’ area under the shade of a weeping willow. He wasn’t on duty, but his eyes scanned the throng of wedding guests holding sparkling glasses of wine and champagne and recapping the beautiful service they had just witnessed.

      The men mostly wore classic morning suits, as he did, and the women were tastefully attired in afternoon dresses and sunhats. Later, at the evening reception, they would all change into their ballroom best.

      It was only when his eyes finally found the Princess, in a small cluster of women waiting to talk to the bride, that he realised he’d been searching for her.

      He cursed under his breath. His reaction to her was annoyingly primal. And annoyingly still present. The problem, he decided as he studied her, was that she had an element of the conquest about her. All that snooty standoffishness combined with her natural beauty was like a summons to any man who had red blood pumping through his veins. But while he enjoyed a challenge—possibly more than most men—some inner sense of self-preservation warned him to keep his distance.

      He had very firm rules when it came to women and he never deviated from them. Keep it short, keep it sweet and, most importantly, keep it simple. This posh princess had complicated written all over her pretty face.

      He’d seen enough relationships fall apart to last him a lifetime, and while logically he knew not all couples ended up on the scrap heap he wasn’t prepared to take the chance. It was probably the only risk he wasn’t willing to take, because when it all went pear-shaped the fall-out was usually devastating.

      ‘I know that face. You’re brooding about something.’

      Wolfe glanced at Gilles, who had ambled up with two glasses of champagne in his hands. Wolfe took one and smiled. ‘Just enjoying the frivolities.’

      Gilles gave him a droll look. Previously they had both bemoaned any wedding they’d been forced to attend. ‘I thought you were bringing someone with you today?’

      Wolfe took a sip and tried not to wince as the warming liquid pooled in his mouth. ‘Not while I’m working.’

      Gilles lowered his own glass, amusement dancing in his eyes. ‘She dumped you?’

      Wolfe recalled the look on Astrid’s angry face when he’d told her he wouldn’t be seeing her again. ‘Yep.’

      ‘In…’ Gilles glanced at his watch ‘…how many hours?’

      Wolfe chuckled. He’d enjoyed Astrid’s company for five busy nights while he was working in Vienna a month ago, and she had enjoyed his. When he’d tried to say goodbye she’d kicked up a stink. Accused him of using her. Wolfe’s anger had surfaced then. He knew he had a name for being a heartless womaniser but he was simply honest. He didn’t see the point in beating around the bush and pretending to feel things he didn’t. And nor did he sleep with as many women as his reputation would suggest. He wouldn’t have any time left over for work if he did.

      ‘What can I say? She was one of the smart ones.’

      Wolfe waited for his friend to start up another good-natured lecture about settling down. Anne, it seemed, had reformed the once bad-boy Marquis to the point where Wolfe now almost preferred her company to his.

      ‘Well, that works out well for me.’

      ‘It does?’

      Gilles chuckled. ‘Don’t look so relieved. I wasn’t about to try and reform the unreformable.’

      ‘Thank God.’

      ‘But I do need a favour.’

      Favours Wolfe could do.

      ‘Sure.’

      ‘There’s a girl I need you to keep your eye on tonight at the reception.’

      Wolfe didn’t exactly look at the sky, but he came close. ‘Friend of Anne’s, by chance?’

      ‘Yes, actually. But, no, I’m not trying to set you up, you suspicious clod. She’s the woman my father wanted me to marry.’

      Gilles’s words sparked a distant memory of a late-night chat from years back that Wolfe had completely forgotten about. He took another pull of his drink and wished it was beer in an icy bottle instead of champagne in a tepid glass. ‘I’m listening.’

      ‘Years ago my father and hers came to the decision that we would forge a strong union if we married when we came of age.’

      ‘I think you “came of age” about ten years ago, my friend, and isn’t that a little last century?’

      Gilles’s mouth twisted into an ironic smile. ‘You’ve met my father. Hers is worse. Anyway, the media have done a good job beating some life into the old story this past week, playing up the whole jilted fiancée thing, and Anne said it’s been a bit rough on her.’

      Wolfe knew what it felt like to be talked about behind his back. Even if the people in the small town he’d grown up in had been doing so out of sympathy rather than slander. At least for him and his brother, at any rate. ‘What’s wrong with her?’ he asked suspiciously.

      Gilles СКАЧАТЬ