by Avery Flynn
She was right. He’d have to be an imbecile not to realize it, and Lucas Bendtsen was no idiot. Like her, he stayed focused on obtaining the goal at all costs, no one who wasn’t that way would have said yes to her stepfather’s asinine idea to get married right away. They didn’t have much in common, but they had that, even if their goals were at opposing ends.
“And the fact that having Jasper here will make it that much easier for you two to go AWOL didn’t factor into your decision at all?”
Of course it did, but she didn’t need to confirm it for him to know that. “What’s wrong?” she asked, her sharp question softened by her teasing tone. “You think you can’t beat me at the game you created and made all the rules for?”
His answering smirk made her pulse hop. “That’s not even up for debate.”
Had they started flirting? Because it totally felt like they’d moved from fighting to flirting considering the way her lungs had shrunk and her nipples had peaked. Did Mr. By The Book even know how to flirt? His eyes darkened before he dropped his gaze to her parted mouth, then ever so slowly brought his attention back up. Breathing became difficult.
Yes. Yes, he definitely did know how to flirt.
“Good, then you’ll get Jasper here and everyone wins,” she said, unable to hide the slight, breathy tremble in her voice as she reached over and yanked the first dress she happened upon off the hanger sight unseen.
He glanced down at the dress in her hands and mumbled something that sounded a lot like bloody hell before looking back up at her. There was enough heat in his eyes to melt her on the spot. She held on to the silky material as if it were her last lifeline to sanity. “Now turn around. I have to change.”
He didn’t move. She couldn’t move. The air sparked around them. Just when the scales started to lean along with her body toward him, he turned away. For a second all she could do was blink in shock as she stared at his ramrod-straight back and his hands clasped behind him.
Smooth move, Ruby. You’re one tough chick all right.
She tossed the dress over the open armoire door and then unzipped the side closure of her skirt and let it fall down to the floor.
Let’s try not to orgasm next time he makes eye contact, okay?
Her cashmere sweater went next. It wasn’t until she was standing in her matching silver lace bra and panties that she realized which dress she’d grabbed. The Silver Knight agent who’d packed her clothes while she’d been locked up at Moad Manor obviously didn’t realize the amount of under rigging the silver dress required. With the deep V back, a bra was out of the question since she didn’t have the backless bustier she normally wore with it.
She grabbed the front clasp of her bra, but hesitated. She could swap out dresses. There were other options in the armoire. Switching was tempting, but she couldn’t do it. Maybe it was immature, but he’d seen her take this one, and she wasn’t about to change because the thought of being without a bra around him sent a wave of warm desire flooding her core. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.
Her gaze flicked over to Lucas who stood with his back to her, his broad shoulders so tense it looked like they were about to snap. He was probably pissy because she’d gotten the drop on him with Jasper.
Taking comfort in that, she unsnapped her bra’s front clasp. Lucas’s shoulders went impossibly taut. That’s when she noticed him watching her in the small vanity mirror’s reflection. The one-foot-high oval looking glass wasn’t enough to let him see all of her, but obviously it was enough. Averting her gaze as if she didn’t know he was watching, she slipped off the bra, slower than necessary, and took her time getting the dress down from where it hung and sliding it on.
Temporary insanity? Most definitely. Amazingly hot? Without a fucking doubt. If he was any other man, she’d have him naked and between her legs by now—as it was, she’d be fantasizing about Lucas with his face pressed to her slick folds for years to come.
Knowing there was nothing she could do about her pebbled nipples pushing against the silver material, she smoothed her hands over her hips to stop from reaching out for him. “You can turn around now.”
He did, moving his hands as he rotated so they were clasped in front of his upper thighs and groin. If there was a reason for that, it didn’t show on his face. His expression was as hard as the stiff cock he couldn’t quite hide.
The vein in his temple throbbed. “I need to make a call.”
“It’s okay, I still need to do my hair.” Not trusting herself not to reach out to him, she gave him a wide berth as she crossed to the vanity.
“I need to make this call in private.”
“I see.” Trying her best to keep her hands steady, she opened the vanity’s top drawer, pulled out a hair clip, twisted her hair into a quick chignon, and fastened it. “Well then, I’ll see you in the dining room.”
Without waiting for his answer, she hustled out of the room before she gave in to the arousal making it hard to remember exactly who Lucas was and exactly what they were doing on Fare Island.
…
Lucas unfurled his fists and let out a deep breath that did nothing to alleviate the stiffness in his cock. He didn’t mean to look at Ruby while she changed. He shouldn’t have looked, but he couldn’t have stopped if there’d been a gun to his head. Ruby Macintosh screwed with his head—both of them. And worst of all, she was right.
Bringing in Jasper would be a show of might and ease whatever doubts lingering in the old man’s mind. Of course it also came with a huge downside. What would Jasper say when he got to Fare Island? For the past forty-eight hours he’d been holed up in a safe house with a team of agents. Jasper was a shit human being—except for his devotion to his sister. Just as they’d dangled his incarceration in front of Ruby, they’d done the same to Jasper. Now he had to weigh the benefits of increasing his value to his target against the total crapshoot of having Ruby and Jasper in the same airspace while forcing them both to keep their mouths shut about what was going on.
It was a brilliantly insane move, and it would work.
He punched in his clean contact number, one that was routed through several call stations and wouldn’t link him back to the Silver Knights, and slipped his Bluetooth into his ear so he could talk while changing into one of his suits already hanging in the closet.
“Hello.” Sgt. Talia Clausen answered on the first ring.
His shoulders relaxed an inch or two at the absence of the word “sir” from her greeting. To anyone listening in, either to him in the room or via devices that picked up both sides of the transmission on his cell phone, it was just a greeting, but it meant that there hadn’t been any trouble at the safe house.
“You wouldn’t believe how much turbulence there was on the flight over. It reminded me of that time going over the Alps. Also, I need you to look into something for me on the quiet. I’m doing a favor for Rolf Macintosh and need you to put the word out that I’d like the location of his son, Jasper. Seems the boy hasn’t made an appearance in a while.”
He paused in the act of buttoning his shirt hoping the sergeant would be able to quickly translate the code for her to accompany Jasper to Fare Island right away. She’d have to make clear to him the consequences of letting out any information about his recent circumstances.
“Consider it done. Does the jet need to be checked out before you go up again?”
Relieved at her quick understanding, he resumed buttoning and considered her suggestion to bring in backup. They had a team an hour away by jet. It could be done—but not yet.
“It’s probably not a big deal. I hope the next time I take my bride up in it she’ll have a better experience.”
“Are congratulations in order already?”
“Yes, Ruby’s father had the great idea for us to have the ceremony here.” And with that, he delivered the update that the sergeant would translate and report to the queen.
“Will you be needing anything for the ceremony that I can send along?”
/>
He knotted his dark blue tie. “No, I have it covered.”
There was already a small armory hidden in the smuggler cargo bays on the plane he’d flown to Fare Island.
“Of course.” She paused and the sound of shuffling papers came in clear over the line. “Before you go there was a message for you from Ms. Olsen.”
The queen had spent ten years in New York City hiding in plain sight as a stylist named Elle Olsen, a common enough surname in Elskov. He’d argued she needed a different code name, but the queen was a stubborn woman. “What does it say?”
“That Mr. Colt has an appointment with another firm and can’t commit.”
Shocked, he pushed the Windsor knot up too tight on his neck and had to take a second to loosen it. Mr. Colt was Rolf Macintosh. And if he couldn’t commit, that meant that someone from up high had declared him untouchable. The Americans? The British? Both were likely candidates to look the other way on some of Rolf’s deadly deals in exchange for information that lead to juicier targets and headed off terrorist attacks. He couldn’t blame them, but still the new information tied a double knot around his balls.
“That’s too bad.” Yeah, that was one way to put it.
“Indeed,” Clausen said, only the barest hint of annoyance creeping into her tone. “Is there anything else you need?”
Something to go right before Gregers Henriksen got his hands on enough weapons to launch a guerrilla attack on Elskov.
Instead of voicing that thought, he said, “Just be sure to put the word out to my contacts about Jasper. We’re working on a tight deadline with the wedding this weekend.”
“Consider it done.”
He pocketed his cell phone and strode out of the bedroom, noting the discreet security cameras perched high along the hallway and the obvious guards posted at frequent intervals as he made his way down the stairs to the family dining room.
Three courses later, Lucas sat at the formal dining room table trying to pinpoint any weaknesses in the Macintosh family dynamics that he could exploit in his search for the date and location of the arms deal. Rolf sat at one end with Joey on his right. The two had spent the entire dinner in silence. Lucas sat at the old man’s left with Ruby next to him. At the other end of the table sat Ingrid Macintosh, who looked enough like her daughter to make the differences stand out. The nervous laugh. The flinches at unexpected noises. The fine lines around her tired gray eyes. The forced cheerfulness in her tone.
“So tell me, Luc,” Ingrid said in her soft voice. “How did you two meet?”
The question yanked him out of his thoughts, and it took a second to realize what she was asking. It was just long enough to make the quiet of the dining room scream.
“At the corner coffee shop.” Ruby took his hand in hers and brushed a kiss across his knuckles. “You know the one, Mom, right up the street from my apartment? I’ve texted you pictures of the funny signs they always put out front.”
Ingrid blinked a few times, her eyes vacant, before something in her daughter’s words seemed to catch hold and she smiled. “Yes. They had the sign about no wifi and having to talk to each other.”
“That’s the one,” Ruby said. “Well, I went in one day and ordered a huge mocha not realizing that my wallet wasn’t in my purse.”
“So I picked up her tab.” He finished her sentence as he draped an arm around the back of her chair, giving her shoulder a squeeze in thanks for how she’d covered for him.
She may not want to be here with him, and she was still trying to figure out how to hightail it off Fare Island with Jasper, but—for the moment—they were on the same team. The pinch in his lungs lessened, and for the first time since they arrived, he let himself relax.
“And how did you propose?” Ingrid asked.
“Nervously.” He chuckled, playing up the part of the charming Luc Svendsen who never met a woman he couldn’t put at ease.
“I can’t believe you thought I’d ever say no.” Ruby rested the back of her head into the pocket of his shoulder, looking every bit like a lovesick fiancée.
He shouldn’t be surprised, considering that she’d grown up literally in a den of manipulative thieves, but she took to the subterfuge like a gold digger to a four-carat diamond. If only she’d been someone different, Ruby would be the perfect ally.
Ingrid dabbed at her eyes, a soft smile turning up the end of her mouth. At the other end of the table, though, Rolf and Joey didn’t react at all. The two men were too engrossed in the smartphone lying on the table between them.
“That is just the most romantic thing.” Ingrid’s smile wavered, and she wiped at the wet spot under her eye. “I know that you two are a modern couple, but I do hope you’re willing to adhere to a few old traditions.”
He fidgeted in his seat. “What did you have in mind?”
She withdrew a long, thin gift-wrapped box from next to her plate and handed it to Ruby, who opened it. Inside was a long silver chain, a heart-shaped lock, and a key.
“What is it?” he asked, already knowing by the ashen tint to Ruby’s face that he wasn’t about to like the answer.
Instead of answering right away, Ingrid stood and walked over to them, a pair of scissors in her hand.
“First, you’ll need to remove your suit jacket and shirt,” she said as if it was a totally normal request. “Don’t worry, that’s the extent of how much you’ll need to disrobe now.”
He looked around the table. Someone had to object to this bizarre request. Rolf and Joey barely glanced up from the phone between them. Ruby had suddenly become entranced by her wineglass. Ingrid gave him an encouraging smile. Not liking it one bit, he stood up and stripped off his jacket and shirt.
Oh yeah, this doesn’t make you look like a jackass at all.
“Sorry about this, darling,” Ingrid said as she used the scissors to snip the left shoulder strap of Ruby’s dress, which miraculously stayed in place. “But trust me, it will make getting ready to go to sleep tonight so much easier.”
Ruby gulped audibly but didn’t make a noise of complaint.
Ingrid lifted the filigreed chain out of the box. “This is a hand-binding chain,” she said as she encircled first Ruby’s left wrist and then his right wrist so the chain formed a figure eight around their wrists. Then she clipped the lock closed and added a layer of warm wax around it that cooled almost instantly. “It’s an old but honored tradition on the island to test a young couple’s devotion to each other. If you can’t spend twenty-four hours together before the wedding, then you may want to rethink your commitment. One of the servants will deliver special binding clothing in the morning so you’ll be able to get dressed even when you’re bound to each other. I’ll remove the wax and unlock you after dinner tomorrow night. If you feel the need to have the binding undone before then, or if you break it yourself, then that will be a very bad omen for the marriage.”
Lucas stared down at the deceptively sturdy chain tying him to Ruby as both of his heads fought about whether it was the best or worst thing to have happened today.
Chapter Six
Ruby had thought going to the bathroom while Lucas had faced away from her and stood as far away as the chain wrapped around their wrists allowed was as bad as it was going to get that night. She was wrong. Lying under the duvet in the darkened room pretending to be asleep next to him was worse.
Hours after they’d turned in, there was no relief from the persistent vibrating hum of her body reacting to Lucas’s nearness. The accidental brush of his muscular calf against the side of her foot. The constant tingle dancing up her arm from the brush of the back of his chained hand against her knuckles. The low rumble of his breath that made her own lungs tight as his deep inhales dragged the thin sheet across her pebbled nipples. She’d never been more aware of every single part of her body than she was at that moment, and there wasn’t a damn thing she could do about it.
“Please stop making that noise,” Lucas said, his voice as smooth as warm honey.
> Everything but her heart froze. That particular organ went into overdrive as if someone had just jabbed her with a needle full of adrenaline. “What noise?”
Lucas rolled so he faced her, their chained wrists lying on the bed between them. The full moon sent just enough light through the bedroom window to highlight every one of the things about him she should be ignoring. The sheet had slipped down to his waist, giving her a clear view of the dusting of hair over his hard pecs and the happy trail that narrowed before disappearing under the covers. Her mouth went dry, and she jerked her gaze back up to his face. For once, not every dark hair on his head fell into perfect alignment. Instead, it was tousled and a shadow of scruff covered his normally clean-shaven jaw. His eyes glittered like aquamarine gemstones as he watched her with enough intensity to make her bite down hard on her bottom lip.
His body tensed. “That one, the one that sounds halfway between a sigh and a moan.”
“You’re hearing things.” She hadn’t made a noise. She would have realized. Okay, maybe she made a little huff sound, but only that last time. And it had been quiet, barely a whisper really. “I didn’t make any noises.”
He raised an inky eyebrow and smirked before propping his head up in his hand. The new position let him stare down on her and the look he gave her set a warm wave of desire rushing across her already primed body.
“Liar.”
He delivered the single-word challenge with enough seduction in his tone that it took a second to register.
“What did you call me?” she asked, slowly enunciating each word fully and grabbing hold of the much more acceptable emotion of annoyance to stop her from giving in to the half-dressed temptation that she was chained to.
“I could have just told you your pants were on fire.” He smirked. “However, you’re not wearing any.”
What a pompous, double-standard holding, blackmailing asshole. “I didn’t see you keeping yours on.”
