Page 9 of Stolen Princess's Secret

Third time lucky, right?

In her hand she carried yet another request for her to have access to the aviaries and this time the request came from Cas. Tomas—if he had a subversive bent, which he absolutely did—could deny he’d ever received such a request if she didn’t deliver it to him personally, so here she was, about to do exactly that.

She’d warned him she was persistent.

Claudia found him in a white-walled office crammed with filing cabinets along one wall and several computers set up haphazardly on any available surface. He sat behind a corner desk with a phone to his ear and a frown on his face that deepened when he saw her. He didn’t motion for her to sit, but she placed the letter dead centre on his desk and swivelled it so that his name on the envelope was facing him, fully aware that he was watching her every move.

She’d spent a ridiculous amount of time on her hair and make-up this morning. She’d tried on three different sets of outdoor ‘work’ clothes. She’d armoured up in preparation to see him again because apparently she was perfectly capable of having a crush on him with all the avid obsession of a hormonal thirteen-year-old.

What joy.

Smiling tightly, she then turned her back on him and proceeded to poke around his office.

Okay, not poke, she wasn’t quite that rude, maybe prowl was the description she needed. There was a wall of bird photographs, with names neatly printed beneath each image. Once she’d inhaled all that, she memorised the weekly roster and the names and duties of his apprentices. And of course she listened to his side of the phone conversation.

‘I don’t have any room,’ he said more than once. ‘We’re full. I know. Leave it with me. I’ll call you back.’ Two more rapid phone calls, one to France, the other to Latvia, and he was indeed calling that first person back and giving them the contact details of the raptor sanctuary he’d organised to take their breeding pair of endangered goshawks. Finally, he put the phone down and stared at her.

She’d been waiting over twenty minutes.

‘Hello,’ she murmured now that she had his full attention. She was certainly prepared to offer him all of hers in return. ‘Good job on rehoming the goshawks.’

She loved the way he exuded healthy masculinity in his rough labourer’s clothes that included wide leather bands wrapped casually around both forearms. Muscles bulged. Angels sighed. Falconers had an unfair advantage when it came to looking effortlessly sexy. Not that she was inclined to mention it. She was all about keeping this meeting professional. Mostly professional. She’d see how she went.

‘Are you the president of some kind of raptor relocation outfit?’

‘No.’ He gestured towards the envelope. ‘What’s this?’

‘Another request for access to the royal aviaries. I’ve also included my falconry experience, starting from age seven. It’s extensive.’

His eyes narrowed as he stared at her—a suspicious-hearted person might have even called it a glare. And then he turned his attention to the envelope, discarding Cas’s covering letter after a swift glance in favour of scanning her C.V.

Quite voraciously. It was very gratifying.

‘It says here you’re a Master Falconer.’

Claudia beamed.

‘Where are your birds?’

‘Still in the mountains. And while I’d happily bring them here, I’m currently busy taming Cas’s courtiers, and it sounds like you don’t have room to keep them. I’d like to discuss it though, just in case you can find some way to accommodate them.’

‘There’s an onboarding process for anyone wanting access to the royal aviaries,’ he said.

‘Of course.’ She expected no less. ‘And I am here for it. Are you free now?’

She’d ambushed him, used her position to corner him, and he didn’t know whether to be resentful or impressed. Just another set of opposing emotions to add to the collection he carried deep within whenever he thought of her. And with the newspapers and magazines and fortress gossip fair bursting with talk of the political demands she was making and the family gowns and tiaras she was wearing, not to mention her ever growing influence over her brother and his family, he thought about the returned princess of Byzenmaach plenty.

She didn’t even have to be present.

‘I’m here for the next two days and I’d really like to get my onboarding on track,’ she was saying, and he seriously considered making it happen.

Maybe if he onboarded her himself, he could form his own opinion on the type of person she’d grown up to be and stop buying into all the gossip she created just by breathing in a particular direction. He could stop watching the many television interviews she’d taken to giving, because they downright did his head in. It was impossible not to admire her grit, even as he wondered what the hell she thought she was doing, dabbling in political minefields that were minefields for a reason.

‘Let’s do it now,’ he said of the onboarding, choosing for once to step up and wear the emotional turmoil of connection.

Go him. Such outreach. His former girlfriends would hardly recognise him.

‘Really?’

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