Page 11 of The Prince and His Stolen Groom
Except that wasn’t what he said at all. “You’re the other one.”
I froze and glanced over my shoulder, then stumbled back. Damn stealthy bastard had snuck up on me again! Anger tightened his jaw while his brow furrowed in confusion. His hand closed around my arm and squeezed. “Frederick!”
I flinched at the strength of his grip. “Ouch.”
To my surprise, he snatched his hand away. For a second, he looked ready to apologize, then he remembered that I’d kidnapped him and grabbed for me again.
I skipped out of his reach, putting the kitchen table between us. “Wait, wait, let me explain.”
“What is there to explain?” he shouted as he chased me in circles. “You kidnapped me!”
“Yes, but don’t you want to knowwhy?”
He stopped and narrowed his eyes at me. With him standing between me and the door, I couldn’t escape. Dammit, I should have asked that when I was on the other side of the table. “Tell me.”
“Franny doesn’t want to marry you.”
“Oh, well, thank you so much, Fred, that explains everything,” he said sarcastically. I waited for him to start chasing me again, but he seemed to recognize his advantageous position and stubbornly stayed where he was.
“Not Fred,” I muttered.
“What?”
“I go by Rick, not Fred.”
He stared at me for a long moment before demanding, “Is that all you have to say? That your sister doesn’t want to marry me and that you’re Not Fred?”
I hesitated. Like with my parents, whether or not Franny came out to him was her decision. But I didn’t have any other explanation forwhyshe would be miserable if she married him—nothing true, at least. “Yes.”
He blinked at me. Three, big, obvious, astounded blinks. “Are you for fucking real?” Then he started chasing me again.
I dashed toward the door and somehow crashed right into him. I’d miscalculated, and he’d turned around mid-stride to catch me. He grabbed both of my arms, preventing me from jerking back in the other direction, and spun me around so I faced the table.
“What are you—” I grunted in pain as he slammed me face-first onto it. Both of my wrists trapped in one of his hands, he stretched my arms high above my head, pinning me in a position that prevented me from fighting back. “Get off of me!”
His free hand roamed over my chest, down my sides, and then back up, slipping under the edges of my waistcoat. Distracted by his touch, it took me a second to realize he was looking for the key to unlock the door. “It’s not—”
He adjusted his position, pressing himself firmly against my ass.Fuck, fuck, fuck, not good—a sound escaped me before I could cut it off.
We both froze in silence. I closed my eyes and leaned my forehead against the table, wishing I could disappear.
“Did you justmoan?” he demanded.
“No.”
“Yes, you did!”
Thinking fast, I said, “It was agroanofpain.This position is very uncomfortable.” He’d let me go before when he’d accidentally hurt me, maybe it would work a second time.
No such luck. His hand tightened on my wrists as he exclaimed, “You were moaning during my Very Serious Escape Attempt!”
The way he capitalized those words gave it an official air that the situation did not warrant. All he’d done was pin me to a table, it was hardly a well-thought-out plan.
He’d stopped feeling me up, but he hadn’t let me go yet. “The key isn’t literal,” I finally explained.
“What?”
“The key that opens and locks the door isn’t literal. Otherwise, anyone could just steal it and unlock the tower.”
