Page 9 of American Prince (New Camelot Trilogy 2)
“Wanted to see the other soldiers more like,” I said, pulling on a pair of pants and a sand-colored T-shirt.
“Can’t blame a girl for being interested.”
“We’re going to the party capitol of Europe. I can blame a girl for being impatient.”
“And what about you, Embry?” She turned back to look at me now that I was fully dressed. “How patient have you been?”
“If you’re asking if I’ve fucked anyone on base, the answer is no,” I said. “I know this may seem like an alien concept to you, but I have to follow the rules of my job or else I’ll get in trouble.”
Morgan smiled. She was twenty-three and had been working for my stepfather’s lobbying firm since she graduated from Stanford. There were no rules for her since she worked for her own father, at least none that mattered. “Whatever you say, bubby,” she cooed, using the name she used to call me as a toddler.
I walked over to the bed and took her elbow in a firm hand. Morgan and I had a certain kind of brother-sister relationship…as in: it wasn’t really a relationship at all. We respected each other because we understood each other, but any affection between us was logical, cold, and born of a clan-like pride. I never knew familial love to be any different.
But right now? I just wanted to be alone.
“I think it’s time for you to go back to the village. I’ll meet you at the train station tomorrow. Sissy.”
She gave me a fake pout but allowed me to escort her out of my room and down the hall, where of course we encountered Colchester coming out of his own room, a towel slung over his arm.
Keep walking, I willed him. Just keep walking.
He didn’t. He saw me and paused and then he saw Morgan and stopped altogether. And suddenly I saw my stepsister through his eyes—the silk-black hair hanging to her waist, the emerald eyes, the long throat and slender frame. Something inside my chest tied itself into a knot, loose and hard, like a cherry stem.
“Lieutenant Moore,” he said cheerfully. “Who is your friend?”
“This is my sister—”
“Stepsister,” Morgan corrected.
“—and she and I are going to Prague tomorrow. But as for right now, she’s going back to the village.”
“You’re going to Prague tomorrow?”
“Yes, Colchester, and it’s all been squared away with the captain, so don’t even try—”
I broke off as he pushed the door to his room open and took something off a small desk inside. He emerged holding a paper rectangle printed with dates and times and train stations, and the edges of his mouth curled in an amused smile.
“Oh good,” Morgan said, batting her eyelashes.
“No,” I said.
“Yes,” he said.
I stepped closer to make sure. And yes, it was definitely a train ticket to Prague. For tomorrow, from the same station. And even at the very same time.
“We should all ride together,” he said, his gaze flitting to Morgan and then back to me. “When I scheduled my R&R, I really had no idea where I wanted to go. It was too expensive to go back home and I’d heard good things about Prague…” He lifted one shoulder and smiled an innocent kind of smile. I stared at it, at his mouth. How could he smile innocently like that when just an hour ago, he’d had his boot on my wrist and told me he wanted to hear me beg?
Morgan caught his drift immediately. “I’ve been twice, and Embry’s been once. We’d be happy to show you around.”
Colchester looked pleased. Morgan looked pleased.
I was the only one who was not pleased.
Somehow, I made it through the rest of the evening. I managed to pry Morgan away from Colchester and see her off the base. I swallowed a dinner I didn’t taste. I went to my room and laid on my bed fully clothed, knowing that I wouldn’t be able to sleep, knowing that so many sleepless hours lay between now and being stuck in a train car with Colchester and my sister…
And then I woke up. I had slept, dreamlessly and deep, and now it was time. I told myself I dreaded it, spending the trip with that smug asshole, I knew I dreaded it, except the way my heart pounded and my stomach flipped didn’t feel like dread. I got dressed quickly, used the bathroom quickly, as if I could outrun my own agitation.
I couldn’t.
