The King's Bride By Arrangement - Annie West Page 0,11

hiss of breath and a curse.

In that moment’s bright light, he saw enough. There were people milling near the club’s back door but another couple caught his attention. A woman had her back to the wall, straining away from a man boxing her in who pawed at her short skirt, lifting it up her thigh.

As Paul broke into a run he saw the woman jerk one knee up and the man hunch, cursing. There was just enough light to make out the woman’s horrified features.

Eva.

Nausea filled Paul, and an unholy rage.

He reached them as the guy straightened, filling the air with a stream of ugly curses.

Ignoring the bystanders in the doorway, Paul grabbed the man by the shoulder and spun him round.

It all happened so fast, Eva had trouble taking it in. A minute ago she’d been fending off her companion’s suddenly groping hands. She’d been stunned by how he’d morphed from debonair, amusing company to mauling octopus, his lips wet on her neck and cheek when she tried to avoid his kisses.

He hadn’t taken rejection well, ignoring her first polite request that he step back. Instead he’d used his size and weight to pin her to the wall and try to lift her skirt, his other hand groping at her breast.

That was when fear had kicked in. But her desperate knee to his groin had only slowed him. Her hackles had risen in terror at what he’d said then, and the raw fury in his voice, but before he could follow through on his threats he was wrenched away.

To her right came the sound of breaking glass and the alley was plunged into darkness.

She was aware of raised voices near the club’s exit but kept her eyes on the heaving figures before her. All she could discern was two men and the sound of fighting. Grunts, thuds and at one point a crunching that turned her stomach.

Then a man’s voice whispered in her ear. ‘Palace security, Your Highness. You need to leave now.’ A hand at her elbow urged her to move away from the club.

She shook her head, trying to make out what was happening in front of her.

‘We can’t go. He might need help.’ They couldn’t abandon the man who’d rescued her.

The reply was so soft, she had to strain to hear it. ‘His Majesty has things in hand. He’ll join us in a moment.’

His Majesty? Did he mean Paul?

‘This way, please.’ She was propelled, half-carried, to the end of the alley and round the corner.

Shocked and out of breath, Eva finally gathered her thoughts and found enough purchase on the slippery cobbles to slow their progress.

‘No. I refuse to go until I know he’s okay.’ She yanked her arm free of the bodyguard’s hold, but only, she knew, because of who she was, not because she’d managed to break his grip. ‘We can’t just leave him. What if he’s injured?’

The man opened his mouth as if to argue then stopped, turning to face the way they’d come.

Finally, over the pounding of her pulse in her ears, Eva made out the sound of footsteps approaching. She turned.

There was Paul, striding towards them. In the dim light he looked different. Bigger, somehow, and broader in a dark sweater and trousers instead of the dress uniform he’d worn earlier tonight. His hair was rumpled, falling forward across his brow, and she thought she saw a smear of something across his cheek.

‘Why haven’t you already gone?’ He addressed the bodyguard rather than her. ‘The Princess needs to be away from here.’

‘The lady was concerned about you, Your Majesty.’

‘Really?’ Paul turned to her, his expression unreadable in the darkness.

‘Really,’ she said when she found her voice. ‘You could have been hurt.’

‘So could you.’ His voice sliced like a honed blade through butter. ‘Didn’t you think of that?’

Eva stared up at him. She’d never heard her fiancé angry. If anything she’d have called him even-tempered. Yet now it sounded as if he spoke through gritted teeth. Even in the gloom she saw the way his dark eyebrows angled down in a disapproving V.

Was he angry with her?

She hadn’t created that scene back there.

Abruptly she shivered, her hands rubbing her bare arms as the night air blanketed her. But the chill in her bones wasn’t because of the weather.

‘If I might suggest, Your Majesty.’ The bodyguard spoke. ‘If you take the Princess away, I’ll tidy up here.’

Tidy up? What did that entail?

She had to ask. ‘How is he? Fabrice?’

‘Fabrice?’ Paul shifted closer to