Page 14 of Stolen Princess's Secret

‘I’m afraid Lor is bound to secrecy,’ said another voice from the doorway, and he sighed, because of course it was Claudia and doubtless his emotions would start acting up again.

His heels came together and he bowed his head as befitting his status and hers. Enforced formality was his last line of defence against Claudia, bane of his existence. That and speechlessness. Not that he ever seemed to stay speechless for long in her presence. His grip on his towel tightened.

‘Hey.’ She smiled and he didn’t trust that very appreciative smile one little bit. ‘You’re running late.’

‘Someone brought in an owl with a broken wing.’

‘And not one of your apprentices could see to it without your supervision, hmm?’

‘Exactly.’

‘Nothing at all to do with you not wanting to go to the palace in the first place.’

‘Nothing at all.’

That was the other problem with Claudia. She knew him too well and he didn’t know how. He was a closed book. An impenetrable fortress. A cypher of his own making.

Who’d been blabbing about him?

‘The helicopter leaves in twenty minutes,’ she murmured in dulcet tones. ‘The King is expecting you, me, Silas and Lor to be on it.’

‘I’ll be there.’ She wore a royal purple travelling cloak and her long, thick hair had been wound in an elaborate crown. Her make-up was perfect. He tightened his grip on his towel, wondering if her composure would falter if he dropped it. Maybe she’d flee and give him some small reprieve from those all-seeing eyes. There was no earthly reason for her to even be in his quarters. Was there? ‘Was there anything else?’

‘I’ll take it from here, Lor. We’ll meet you at the helicopter,’ Claudia said, and Lor nodded, hung the coat from a hook on his wardrobe door, and left.

Claudia stayed.

‘I need to get dressed.’ Chivalry demanded he give fair warning.

‘What a good idea.’ Claudia glanced at her delicate wristwatch that doubtless cost more than his annual wage. ‘Eighteen minutes.’

Frustration bubbled. ‘Leave.’

But all she did was lift an eyebrow. ‘Your bathroom’s right there if it’s privacy you need. Your King, my brother, tasked me with getting you to the palace on time and I take my duties extremely seriously.’

He didn’t need the twitch of her lips to know she was teasing. Her capacity to break rules, tradition and anything else that stood in her way was fast becoming legend.

His capacity to ignore her was rapidly becoming non-existent.

There was absolutely no ignoring this woman.

He didn’t even know if he wanted to ignore what had been brewing between them.

With a shrug and what he hoped she took as unconcealed irritation rather than challenge accepted, he dropped his towel to the floor and strode to his chest of drawers in search of underwear. He took his time, allowed himself a flex of muscle here and a slight stretch there. His lifestyle hardly encouraged softness and his body was the result. Strongly muscled arms and shoulders gave way to a sculpted midsection that carried no fat. Long legs, strong thighs, and heavy manhood that he had every right to be proud of. He could almost feel her gaze travelling from that spot between his shoulder blades, all the way down his spine and over the globes of his buttocks. Modesty failed him in the same way propriety constantly failed her.

He half turned, noting with satisfaction the hot colour that rode her cheeks. ‘What’s wrong? You look a little glazed.’

‘Hmm?’ She dragged her gaze away from his nether regions with no small amount of effort and finally let him see the expression in her eyes. It was hot, fierce and appreciative, and his body stiffened in all the right places. ‘Glazed, no. This is my so impressed I’m practically speechless face. Sixteen minutes.’

A lot could happen in sixteen minutes.

He could reach for her. Muss up those perfect lips with biting needy kisses. Bury his fingers in her hair and tilt her head just so, the better to see every tiny expression to cross her face.

Instead, he stepped into his underwear and reached for his trousers, smiling wolfishly at the regretful little sigh that reached his ears.

He reached for his shirt next and let the buttery soft ivory linen encase his arms and shoulders as if it had been made for him and not his great-grandfather. He didn’t fumble the buttons at his chest, but the tiny buttons on the cuffs of the sleeves were another matter.

‘Here.’ She crossed the room to stand in front of him. ‘Let me help.’

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