Natural-Born Protector / Saved by the Monarch

by Carla Cassidy

  Her instant rejection of him on her arrival had injured his masculine pride, whether or not he was ready to admit that, and some part of him pushed to prove something to her, although he couldn’t have exactly said what that was.

  All he knew was that he wanted her to look at him with something other than the ever-present disdain in those mesmerizing lavender eyes. Their arranged union was important. It had a purpose. They had roles to fulfill. He wanted her to consider that.

  He was still intent on conquering when his eyes closed on their own. And in the next instant he was seduced by her softness and her scent. She was unlike any proper noblewoman he’d ever known. He had no idea what to do with her.

  But a very clear and detailed image of what he wanted to do with her readily flashed into his mind. It would not have been the smartest thing at the given moment, nor in compliance with protocol.

  All of a sudden, he felt as if he’d been starved for the taste of her for years, had been waiting for her. The meeting of their lips, the physical connection between them, was startling. He had expected to enjoy kissing her, but the sensations taking over his body went way beyond that.

  Instant heat.

  Instant need.

  There was absolutely no way she could deny it, although he knew she would try. He didn’t even mind. He was looking forward to going a couple of rounds with her before she gave in.

  He had no doubt in his mind that she would see reason eventually. The draw was too strong between them. He was prepared to pursue her until she accepted him.

  Too soon, she twisted away. Her face was flushed, her eyes deep lavender pools.

  He eased out of his focused need, into a teasing smile. “Would being married to me be that terrible?” He was surprised to find that her response would matter quite a bit to him.

  She dragged in air, her nostrils flaring. She didn’t much look like the demure young ladies at court as she said in her toughest, meanest voice yet, “Don’t you ever do that again.”

  He drew a slow breath, held it, then let it out as he considered.

  “All right,” he said brusquely, even as his body demanded more of her. “I won’t kiss you again. You do, however,” he added, and let the challenge stand between them, “have my permission to kiss me any time you wish.”

  Chapter Three

  Kiss him?

  He probably thought he was irresistible just because he was a handsome prince. Insufferable was a much better qualifier for him.

  “Right after they make a ski resort in hell,” Judi snapped, pulling her bottom and feet through the loop of her arms so her hands would be in front. The man was driving her crazy. What had she done to deserve this?

  He had the gall to grin at her, a slow and sexy grin that she supposed was meant to show her who was in control.

  “Well, then,” he said. “Get your camera ready, princess, because the devil will be snowboarding before this is all over.”

  Then he stood with insufferable arrogance on his face and turned his back, his tied hands at eye-level to her.

  “And don’t call me princess.” God, was that the best she could do? She sounded pitiful even to her own ears.

  He was wiggling his long fingers in front of her face. He had strong, masculine hands, she noticed, rough palms that probably came from riding.

  “What do you want?”

  “I cordially request your assistance in the freeing of my hands.”

  He was mocking her. She wanted to tell him off, but she did want to get out of here, and she was smart enough to know that he was her best chance. She put her fingers and teeth to work on his ropes, ignoring the warmth of the inside of his wrist every time her lips touched against the beating pulse there.

  Not to be aware of him as a man would have been impossible. She had to work hard, every second, to pretend that she wasn’t affected by him.

  The ropes didn’t budge an inch.

  “I don’t think this is going to work,” she said just as the door opened again.

  A young woman came in, her shoulders tight-set, her head downcast. Her movements were jerky, as if she were scared. She put a bottle of water on the floor just inside the door without looking up. Then she stepped back out and locked the door behind her.

  Judi watched as the prince sat and tried to pull his hands to the front, but he was tied tighter than she was.

  She couldn’t help him, so she scanned the room again. In the video games she designed, she always hid a secret door or a secret key that the right player could use to escape any dungeon. No such conveniences here.

  Miklos abandoned his attempts at getting his hands to the front and walked over to try the door—no luck—then picked up the water with an awkward squat and a blind sweep of his fingers, brought it back and handed it to her sideways.

  She screwed off the top with some finagling and lifted the bottle to her mouth.

  But he said, “No. Me first.”

  “Of course, Your Highness.” She rolled her eyes, but held the bottle to his lips.

  He took a taste, swooshed it around in his mouth, swallowed it, waited a couple of seconds. “Please call me Miklos.” Then nodded that she could drink.

  And she felt pretty stupid when she realized that he’d been checking the water for drugs or poison. She was distracted enough to put the bottle to her lips without wiping the opening. Which, when she became aware of it, felt oddly intimate all of a sudden.

  He caught the look on her face and seemed to be amused. “We have kissed.”

  “I guess. Sort of.” She tried to act like it was no big deal.

  A dark eyebrow rode up his forehead. “I don’t remember any sort of about it.”

  He was having fun at her expense.

  “Well, it’s not going to happen again,” she snapped.

  He didn’t look like he believed her.

  But after a moment, he did remove his lethal gaze from her and moved to examine the windowless room while she drank some more. “Next time they open that door, we’ll be prepared.”

  She swallowed and held the bottle out to him so he could actually drink for real, not just a taste. “For what?”

  “To break out.”

  So they took up positions behind the door. Meaning they stood behind the door. He called it “positions.” At this stage, she was willing to do whatever he said. Within limits.

  “So you’re a soldier or something?” She took in his uniform that she hated to admit looked pretty good on him.

  “Army major.”

  “Is that a ceremonial title? They can’t make a prince do push-ups, can they?”

  “You should have seen me in basic training.” He shook his head. “I thought I was a hotshot footballer when I joined the army, daily training, laps around the field, whatever. The first six weeks of training nearly did me in. I think only my pride kept me from running back to the palace.”

  She was surprised he would confess that. She didn’t think he was always this open, not when his every move and every word could be reported in the media. But he’d been acting as if they’d known each other for some time. He let his guard down around her.

  She didn’t know whether to like that or wish for some stiff royal distance between them.

  But she did have a lot of questions about him. So if he were willing to answer, she was definitely ready to ask.

  “Why did you join in the first place? As a prince, you probably had your pick of careers.”

  “Tradition, partly. And because I thought it was the right thing to do. Valtrian young men and women serve our country, ready to sacrifice their lives for it if needed. How could a prince do any differently? At coronations, the people take an oath to serve the monarchy. And the monarch takes an oath to protect his or her people.”

  “I always thought that sort of thing was only for show. A formality.”

  His face seemed to tighten. “I assure you that a Kerkay always takes his oath and duty seriously.”

  Great. Back to the du
ty thing. He would start badgering her about the marriage next. She should have quit while she was ahead.

  But he didn’t bring up the engagement, and she was smart enough not to return to the subject of duty again, so for the next few hours, they stood in silent readiness.

  Nobody came, although, from time to time, they could hear people passing in the hallway. One complained that there wasn’t enough water.

  “We’ve two days’ worth. That’s all we need,” another one responded, then said something about Maltmore castle, and the two of them laughed.

  They spoke Italian. Like Switzerland, Valtria had several official languages to reflect its ethnic groups: German, Italian and Hungarian. Plus English was used in the business and entertainment world, as well as being the language of the fledgling tourist industry in the country.

  Reminding her of her heritage, Aunt Viola had bribed her into taking lessons in all of Valtria’s languages through her school years, but only the Italian had stuck enough so Judi had at least some rudimentary understanding.

  She looked at the prince. The two-day thing didn’t sound good. What would happen to them then? His face was shadowed, his eyes glinting hard. He looked like he, too, was considering some worst-case scenarios. She didn’t dare ask.

  Eventually, when no one came, they sat down. Then they ate the food that had been brought in earlier—crusty rolls and cheese—and drank the rest of the water. After a while, the tension in the air eased.

  And his attention returned to her. “So you didn’t come to Valtria to marry me?”

  “Do I really have to say this for the hundredth time?”

  “Birthday trip.”

  “That and a little research.”

  That seemed to get his attention. “On what?”

  “Castles and royalty. I’m working on a new videogame series for kids about a little princess and her dragon. It’s going to have a lot of castles with moats.”

  “Any princes?”

  “Not so much. Just the dragon. The games will be fun but educational. Each will tackle a different message appropriate for elementary school children. Friendship, diversity, courage, resilience, that kind of thing.”

  “Impressive,” he said and, for a change, didn’t look like he was mocking her.

  She hated that she felt ridiculously pleased at his compliment.

  A crooked smile split his face. “When I was younger, I used to think that dragons were real. I thought they lived in the passageways under the palace. And since I was a prince, I knew I would be expected to slay them at some point. As a five-year-old, it was pretty disconcerting.”

  She’d never seen him more approachable or more attractive than at that moment, with his guard completely down, reminiscing. “What happened?”

  “My brother Arpad eventually had a talk with me about some facts of life. Dragons, Santa and the Easter Bunny.” He grinned.

  “Oh.” She didn’t know whether that was bad or good. When she’d been young, she had loved the whole Santa thing.

  “Big relief,” he said. “Arpad was a great older brother. He taught me all about the facts of life.”

  Now things were starting to get interesting. “Girls, too?” She could picture the two teenage princes out on the prowl for a date. God help the kingdom.

  “Especially girls.” His grin turned wicked.

  She felt a flash of heat, but all too soon she was shivering again in her spring dress. She’d been dressed for sunny weather. A thousand feet up, winter still reigned.

  “If you can get my jacket off, you’re welcome to it,” he said.

  She took in the military uniform with some longing. Looked warm. Of course, there was no way to pull it off with his hands tied like that.

  “I can get your pants off,” she said just to keep herself from falling into a self-pity fest and to let him know that she wasn’t the least bit intimidated by him.

  But instead of laughing her off, he held her gaze. “Go ahead.”

  And damn if the temperature in the room didn’t kick up a notch.

  “No, thanks. I wouldn’t want you to freeze off your royal behind.” If he thought she was going to treat him with deference—which he was no doubt used to—he had another think coming.

  In fact, treating him like the guy next door might just be the key to stop being so aggravatingly aware of him. At least some of his magic and power had to have come from the whole prince thing.

  He drew up a dark, aristocratic eyebrow.

  “I don’t want to see your royal behind,” she clarified.

  “You feel threatened by my behind?” he bantered right back, not looking the least offended by her disrespectful comments.

  “Oh, please.”

  “You don’t think you could resist it,” he said.

  She would not dignify that with an answer.

  Which didn’t deter him. “You brought it up, so you must have been thinking about it.”

  Great. Now she was wishing they did have some protocol that mandated proper distance between them. “I don’t think dirty innuendoes are appropriate for a prince.”

  “You’d be surprised at all the inappropriate things princes do when nobody’s looking,” he said. Very suggestively.

  She threw him what she hoped was a baleful look, sucking in her cheeks at the same time to hold back a grin. She really couldn’t stand it that she was starting to like him.

  Of course, she had bigger problems than that. Like having to use the bathroom. She held it for another half hour before she could overcome her embarrassment enough and mention it to him.

  “I’ll bang on the door and ask them to let me out. They’ll have to.” Didn’t they? God, she really hoped they would.

  “Don’t.” He got up to pull a plastic snow bucket from under the table that she’d only marginally registered before. He set it in front of her and took off the lid. “I’ll turn my back.”

  She looked at the scratched-up red bucket. “I don’t think that’s going to happen. I’ll ask them really nicely.”

  “I don’t want them to take you out of this room.”

  “It’s just a potty break. What do you think they’ll do to me?”

  He turned. Held her gaze. His face was the most serious that she’d seen it yet. “Anything they want.”

  And she had to think about that for a moment and reevaluate whether or not she really wanted to spend some one-on-one time with a kidnapper. “Fine. Turn around.”

  He walked to the far wall, stopped with his back to her.

  “I can’t do this if you can hear me,” she said after a minute. “Could you…”

  He waited her out.

  “Maybe plug your ears,” she suggested.

  “Not with my hands tied behind my back.”

  “Sing?”

  He didn’t even shake his head, just broke into some Valtrian song about rain. He had a pleasant, rich baritone for singing. Except when he went all goofy and added an “ooh, baby” off key.

  He was certifiably insane, she thought, and now that he couldn’t see her, allowed herself an ear-to-ear grin.

  With any other man, she would have been tempted to give in to the attraction. She was single; he drew her as no man ever had before. What would have been the harm in a fun vacation fling? If—and that was a big if—they ever got out of here.

  But a smart woman did not have a fling with a prince, not without sacrificing privacy and being dragged through the mud by the media. And a smart woman most definitely did not have a fling with a prince she was supposedly “engaged” to. He was arrogant enough to take the slightest softening on her part as agreement.

  She sealed and put away the bucket. “Thanks.”

  He shrugged off her gratitude as he came back to sit on the floor next to her.

  “So what sort of adventures does this princess in your games have?” he asked her with a look that made her wary that he was going to read way too much into whatever answers she gave.

  “Her castle is kind o
f like a labyrinth. Sometimes she searches for treasure, sometimes she fights monsters.”

  He drew up a skeptical eyebrow. “Teaching kids about materialism and violence?”

  The urge to hit him over the head was pretty strong. “The treasures are something like a song that will play if the child gets the answers to a series of math questions right, or a story she will hear as a treat. The monsters are not vanquished with weapons. Their names are written on their chest with some letters missing. The kids will guess the missing letters. When they call the monster by its true name, it will disappear. That game teaches spelling.”

  “Not bad.” A speculative look came into his eyes along with some merriment.

  And she was sure that he was silently laughing at something at her expense. “What?”

  “According to the chancellor, the perfect occupation for a young lady who’s to become princess is something that has to do with children. He was very pleased when you started to design children’s games.”

  Right. Aunt Viola apparently corresponded with him and kept him up to date. An exaggerated groan was all the response she would give Miklos.

  “So this princess of yours strolls around in her little labyrinth.” He seemed unwilling to let the subject drop. “Is that what you do? Move forward until you see something you’re scared of, then you move back?”

  “She can move up and down, too.” So there. “And some roads are not worth going down. Roads that are obviously dead ends.” She gave a pointed glare.

  “You think marrying me would be a dead end?” His gaze grew intense, with a dangerous glint in it. “Boring maybe, no more excitement, ever?”

  Knowing what she knew of him now, she was betting life with him would be the exact opposite. God help her, she wished she were the princess in her game. She could go up to her highest tower and lock herself away from the temptations of the handsome prince.

  She wondered whether he would disappear if she called him by his true name.

  She should be so lucky.

  THEIR CHANCE TO ESCAPE didn’t come until morning. They spent the night—talking and sleeping alternately—sitting back to back, the only way Judi would allow him to give some warmth to her chilled body. If Miklos hadn’t been tied, he would have hauled her onto his lap and fully against him anyway. As it was, he was forced to obey her wishes.