“You forbid it?” he questioned and watched as her eyes widened. “Do you make a habit of ordering people around as though you had a right to, Miss Royal?”
As he’d expected, she began to blush furiously at his goading.
“No, of course not.” She tripped over the words, more flustered than he’d seen her thus far. “I just – I don’t appreciate your interference. But I know I can’t order people about. How silly.”
Her laugh was as brittle as the fake smile she had plastered on her face.
The water on the fire began to spill over, so Jacob rushed to remove it. Wordlessly, Harriet began to prepare tea. They worked together in silence for a moment or two then by unspoken consent, they both sat at the table.
It was unusually intimate and domesticated, and Jacob wasn’t entirely happy about that.
Clearing his throat, he determined to re-erect the border between the princess being a job, and being someone who was far too attractive for his peace of mind.
“So, Miss Royal.” He watched as she poured tea, every inch the Society lady. She should have looked out of place in such modest surroundings. Even without a crown she was the epitome of regal. Yet she seemed just as comfortable in a rundown cabin on a rickety chair as she was sure to be in a gilded hall on a golden throne. “How do you manage to survive out here then, if you refuse to let me help you, and you insist on staying hidden?”
She blinked at him, her wide, chocolate eyes doing their best to affect him. But he was strong. He was a spy, for God’s sake. He could withstand a pair of eyes.
She was quiet for a moment, nibbling distractedly on her bottom lip before she tilted her chin.
“I’ll live off the land,” she sniffed, and Jacob had to work to keep a straight face.
He knew she’d be spitting mad if he allowed his grin to break free.
“Live off the land,” he repeated. “How?”
“Well, you know,” she stuttered. “I’ll fish and—and hunt, and—” She cleared her throat nervously, looking less sure of herself with every passing second. “Forage for berries and such.”
Jacob quirked a brow, earning one of her scowls.
“I don’t know why I was worried,” he drawled sarcastically. “Clearly, you’re an expert in all things survival.”
That earned him an eye roll and a long-suffering sigh.
“And I suppose you are?” she snapped.
“I am, as it happens,” he answered. “And I know with absolute certainty that if you go “foraging for berries” you don’t recognise, you’ll be dead within two days.”
Her cheeks paled and he felt a momentary guilt at having been so harsh. But she needed to know there were limits to what she could do.
And it would make Jacob’s job a hell of a lot easier if the princess actually wanted him around.
He thought back to last night, when he suspected she’d wanted him there.
Perhaps if reason wouldn’t work, her own fears might.
“I’ll go if you want me to, of course.” He kept his tone even as he cut a piece of cheese from his own modest portion. “I just hope nobody else finds you out here.”
Chapter Fourteen
Harriet studied Mr. Lauer’s face to see if he was trying to trick her or scare her. But his expression was open and polite. No mischief in his blue eyes that she could see.
He might not have meant to scare her with his words, but he had done so.
She was very aware of the threat to her family and now that she’d run away, she had no way of knowing if Christopher had taken care of it. She was inclined to think he had because that was Christopher, capable and efficient in all things.
But what if he hadn’t handled it? What if there was an army of assassins out there trying to kill her entire family? Trying to kill her?
With dawning horror and panic, Harriet faced up to the reality of her situation.
If someone came looking for her, she was out here exposed. All because she wasn’t willing to spend time with Althea Furberg.
Worse, she had isolated herself so that she wouldn’t be privy to any information about Christopher, or her parents, or anything else.
The bread that she’d been chewing on stuck in her throat, and she lifted her teacup with an unsteady hand.
“Miss Royal?”
Harriet looked up at the gentle voice. Mr. Lauer was studying her with something akin to concern stamped on his handsome face.
Their meeting had been unconventional to say the least. And he annoyed her more than any other living creature she’d ever met.
Yet he’d helped her when he didn’t have to.
Had slept outside and tended to her injury.
And, she was rather selfishly just realising, he hadn’t even completed his own journey since he’d stayed with her.
“I’ve kept you from your plans,” she blurted, worry for her family and shame at her self-interest making her voice wobbly. “I am sorry for that, Mr. Lauer.”
He studied her intently, and Harriet wondered what he saw in her face.
His expression gentled and Harriet’s heart fluttered.
“That’s quite all right, Miss Royal,” he said softly. “I had no fixed plans. And I’m rather enjoying my little adventure in the woods.”
His grin was so incorrigible that Harriet found herself answering it with one of her own.
But her head was so filled with thoughts of her family that even his handsome face wasn’t enough of a distraction.
“What is it, Miss Royal? I can tell something is bothering you.”
“You know me so well,” she joked with a small smile.
“I’m starting to,” he answered softly and again, her heart flipped.
For a mad moment, Harriet was tempted to confess all to Mr. Lauer. To tell him who she really was. To give up on the whole thing and go home.
She’d feel like a failure for the rest of her life but the alterative was to stay out here, isolated and unaware of everything.
But she couldn’t tell him.
As soon as he found out who she was, he would change. Everyone did.
And while she couldn’t imagine him being sycophantic, he was a man of integrity, she knew. And he wouldn’t allow her to stay here undiscovered. Not when she was sure that Christopher had sent guards looking for her.
“I suppose I’m just worried about – about supplies,” she lied. “I can’t exactly forage for bread, for example.”
Mr. Lauer studied her with that intense look again before his expression cleared and he was all cheerfulness again.
“No, you can’t. If you don’t mind my staying around a little longer, perhaps I could go to the village and pick up some supplies?”
Harriet tried to hide her relief.
“Thank you, Mr. Lauer, I would appreciate that.”
“It is my pleasure, Miss Royal. Besides, I quite like to catch up on village gossip while I’m here.”
“You do? Well then, I suppose you’ll get all the news from the locals.”
She fought to keep her voice steady but she couldn’t believe her luck. If anything was going on with the royal family it wold make its way here, Harriet was sure of it.
Gossip, after all, travelled fast.
And he’d find out if there were any guards searching for her, too.
Harriet hopped to her feet and rushed over to get her bag of coin.
She reeled off a shopping list from the top of her head, not really caring what he brought back as long as he brought news with it.
Within minutes, she was rushing her unexpected companion to the door.
Before he left however, he swung around to face her, and his face was as serious as she’d ever seen it.
“Do not venture too far,” he warned. “And don’t let anyone in. Anyone at all.”
She blinked up at him in surprise. If she didn’t know any better, she’d think that he knew about the threat to her family.
“I won’t,” she promised.
“I’ll be as quick as I can,” he said. “Though the journey will take some time. Stay safe and rest if you can. No more bumps to the head.”
He reached out and touched a gentle hand to the side of her head where the bump from yesterday still remained, and Harriet’s heart stopped dead in her chest at the contact.
All of a sudden the very air in the room seemed charged, and Harriet found herself moving closer to him.
The scent of sandalwood soap surrounded him, and a potent desire unfurled in her belly.
His eyes dropped to hers, his cobalt gaze trapping her.
Harriet couldn’t have moved if God Himself commanded it. How could one innocent touch evoke such a response in her?
Her breath stuttered and her stomach flipped and all she could do was stand there, hopelessly gazing into his face.
Without conscious thought, Harriet stepped closer until she could feel the heat from his body.
Her heart thumped so loudly she could practically hear it echoing around the room.
He was staring at her as though he could see into her very soul.
Time seemed to stand still.
“Jacob.”
She didn’t know what she wanted to say. She hadn’t even consciously said his name.
But her voice, like the rest of her, seemed to be out of her control. The throaty whisper sounding his name like a plea.
And then, with a muffled oath, he reached out and pulled her into his arms, before bending and capturing her mouth in a kiss that set her whole world on fire.
The second Jacob’s lips touched Princess Harriet’s, every modicum of sense left his body and he was moved by feeling and instinct alone.
It didn’t matter that she was an assignment. It didn’t matter that she was the Crown Princess. It didn’t matter that she didn’t even know who he really was.
His entire mind, his whole body, was consumed with her—the taste of her lips, the feel of her body pressed torturously against his own.
He couldn’t stifle an agonised groan as she reached up to clasp his neck, pulling herself impossibly close to him, stoking the inferno inside him to an unbearable heat.
Lowering his hands, he pressed her closer still, and her gasp allowed him to deepen their kiss, to explore her mouth in a way that was both exquisite and excruciating.
The kiss went on and on, and Jacob could no more have stopped it than stopped the sun from rising.
He didn’t want to stop it.
Over the years he’d had more than his share of encounters with women. Women with experience. Sophistication. Knowledge of the opposite sex.
And none of them had made him feel a fraction of what he was feeling now, with Princess Harriet’s innocent kiss.
Jacob was just about to drag his unruly body back under his control when he felt the hesitant touch of Harriet’s tongue as she mimicked his actions.
Well, hell, he thought. A man can only withstand so much.
With a muffled, desperate oath against her lips, he turned them so she was pressed against the wall of the cottage.
He moved his hands to capture her face, angled her head, and once more delved his tongue inside her incredibly sweet mouth.
His body trapped hers completely against the wall, but she didn’t seem to mind.
In fact, her desperate little moans were driving him beyond reason, beyond any hope of control.
May the devil take him for the blackguard he was, for he wanted nothing more than to lift her skirts and finish what he’d been foolish enough to start.
That wild, animalistic thought was enough to stop Jacob in his tracks and allow him to claw back a tiny bit of sense.
What the hell was he doing? She was an innocent. A princess, damn it.
And here he was, ready to take her against a bloody wall.
Jacob ripped his mouth from hers and with a strength he didn’t think he possessed, took a deliberate step back from her and the tempting scent of lavender that surrounded her.
He bowed his head, hearing her haggard breathing that matched his own.
When he felt as though he could look at her again without ravishing her on the spot, Jacob looked up.
And very nearly dragged her into his arms again.
The ribbon in her hair had come undone so it fell around her shoulders in a waterfall of sable curls.
Her eyes were huge and dark, gazing at him with wonder and desire.
Inside him, the beast awakened by his lust roared to life at the look in her eyes, but already the stark reality of what he’d done was racing through his mind.
Jacob knew he needed to apologise. Knew he needed to assure her that he would never touch her again.
Yet it was harder to do than it should have been because truthfully, he wasn’t sorry at all.
How could he be when the taste of her had been like nothing he’d ever experienced?
Brutally pushing aside the exquisite memory of having her in his arms, Jacob dragged in some much-needed air.
In all his years of working for Prince Christopher, he’d never lost control. Not once. Not for any reason.
Three days with the princess, and he was ready to throw his whole life away just to hold her in his arms once more.
He kept his eyes on her, on the laboured breathing, on the furious blush that now stained her cheeks.
God, she was beautiful; it almost hurt to look at her.
And now that he knew what it was to kiss her…
“I’m sorry, Miss Royal. My actions were unpardonable. I can assure you, that won’t happen again.”
Would she believe him? Would she feel unsafe with him now? Had he just blown this whole assignment and consequentially, his entire career?
Princess Harriet didn’t speak, or even move, for an eternity.
Finally, she meekly nodded then lowered her head to gaze furiously at the floor.
Jacob could only hope that she wouldn’t run the second he left the cottage.
He was tempted to stay just to make sure, but he wanted to give her some distance, and he sure as hell wanted to give himself some.
Besides, he’d yet to write to Prince Christopher to brief him on the situation.
A sudden, uncomfortable guilt began to slither along Jacob’s veins, as though he didn’t have enough emotions to contend with.
Here she thought she’d just been kissed senseless by a helpful stranger.
Lying to her was starting to feel like a betrayal. Yet what choice did he have?
Heaving a sigh, Jacob decided to risk going into the village.
If she did run, it would be child’s play to track her down.
“I’ll be back soon, Miss Royal,” he said for want of anything else to say.
Still, she hadn’t spoken, and Jacob felt sick that he might have scared her.
He moved swiftly to the door, determined to put as much space between him and the tempting princess as possible.
“Wait.”
Right before he left, she called out, stopping him dead.
Jacob turned to face her, fascinated by the deepening of her blush.
She heaved a deep breath then looked him squarely in the eyes.
“I think you should call me Harriet,” she said, a small smile playing around her mouth. “And do come back soon.”
Chapter Fifteen
It had been hours, yet Harriet still couldn’t concentrate on anything but the memory of that explosive kiss.
Not only had she been thoroughly kissed for the first time, but she’d also made sure that the man who’d kissed her came back for round two!
Harriet could feel her cheeks heat with the memory of her boldness.
When Mr. Lauer—Jacob, really, since propriety had long since become redundant—had been apologising, she’d been afraid that he’d genuinely regretted kissing her. That somehow she’d done it wrong or it had been unpleasant for him.
And yet, a sc
orching flame of desire had still danced in his eyes, even as he’d been speaking.
In fact, for one, mad moment, Harriet had thought he meant to do it again. And she had wanted him to, quite desperately.
She wondered what the people of Aldonia would make of their princess, alone in the woods with a handsome stranger, calling him by his Christian name and kissing him with an ardour that bordered on desperation.
She remembered how desperate Alex had seemed at times around Lydia and how she had wondered at her brother’s odd behaviour.
Now, she could understand it.
She thought of staid Christopher and the obsequious Lady Althea.
Could Christopher feel like that about the lady? Was that why he couldn’t seem to see her for what she truly was?
Harriet had given up on trying to distract herself with one of the books she’d brought and had come outside to walk along the stream.
But nothing could stop her thoughts from repeatedly circling back to Jacob.
She should be embarrassed by her conduct. Ashamed and disgraced.
But she quite simply couldn’t bring herself to regret their embrace.
And she’d known from the look on his face that he’d been worried she’d run away.
But she wouldn’t.
It was the oddest thing, she mused as she watched a lone bird wheel through the clear, blue sky.
He had angered her, infuriated her, goaded her more than anyone she’d ever met.
Yet now that he was gone and she was alone just as she’d planned, she missed him.
And now that she knew what it was to be kissed by him…
Harriet’s heart fluttered alarmingly.
If it wasn’t too soon, if she didn’t know better, she’d think herself to be falling in love with the irascible man.
But surely not.
It would be futile in any case.
Her father would never allow her to marry an untitled man of little consequence. Even if he was the most handsome one she’d ever seen. Even if he did make her heart beat rapidly and her stomach riot with butterflies.
She thought of Aunt Anya and her move to England to be with the man she loved.
Thought of Alex and Lydia, also in England and living in bucolic bliss.
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