Lone Prince (Royally Unexpected #7) - Lilian Monroe Page 0,36
get it? It won’t fulfill her ambitions as an architect if she tries to bend this landscape to her will.
The landscape doesn’t care. The arctic bends to no one.
Just look at her first few hours here. Near death.
“I want to do something more with my life than just be someone’s wife,” Rowan says softly. “Gerry was fine. He’ll be a good partner to a woman one day, but it’s not me. I need something…more. I need to see the world. Explore my career. Put my ideas on paper and see them come to life. I need to do something so that when I die, I don’t feel like I’ve wasted my life or been a burden to the people I’m supposed to help.”
“What if you never find what you’re looking for?”
Rowan blinks, then shrugs. “Then I guess I’m destined to wander until I die.”
I’ve never met anyone like Rowan before. She’s giving up safety. Security. A stable relationship. For what? To explore the unknown? To carve her own path?
Abby wasn’t like that. She had very few ambitions of her own and was content to follow me wherever I went. I thought it was because I’m a prince, and she had no noble blood, but when I stare at Rowan, I know I’m wrong. Abby didn’t have the fire, the will for life that Rowan has. She didn’t have the ambition or the independence to be on her own.
Rowan leans forward, resting her elbows on her knees as she stretches the graceful column of her neck from side to side. Her eyes have their own fire burning, and she’s propelled through life by some force I don’t understand. She doesn’t need a protector. She doesn’t need me—or any man—to save her from the dangers outside.
Well—unless she decides to go for a walk in sub-zero temperatures with nothing but a thin jacket on.
There’s a deep well of strength in her that sparks something inside me. It makes me pause. Pushing myself up to stand, I jerk my head toward the bar trolley. “Another drink?”
Rowan nods. “Yes, please.” She stands with me and meets me at the trolley, extending her glass toward me.
When I top up Rowan’s drink, her eyes flick up to mine. Warmth wraps around my chest and snakes lower through my stomach. This girl will be the end of me.
She’s not afraid of me. Not intimidated. She looks me straight in the eye—and I like it. She’s the first person to treat me like a man and not a prince. The first person to listen to me talk about Abby and understand the pain, not just pity me for it.
I take a sip of my drink as I watch her over the rim of my glass.
Rowan meets my gaze and sticks out her tongue. “Do I have something on my face?” she asks, popping a brow.
“What?”
“Didn’t anyone ever tell you it’s rude to stare?” Pause. “Your Highness.”
“Can you blame me?” I say, my voice dropping lower than I intended.
Rowan blinks, biting her lip. Damn. I put my glass down and stand up, extending a hand toward her. She stares at it suspiciously, letting her gaze crawl back up to mine.
“What are you doing?”
“Take my hand, Rowan.”
“Why?”
“I want to show you something.”
“What is it?”
“Take my hand and find out.”
“You haven’t exactly proven yourself trustworthy so far, Your Highness.”
I try to hide my grin. “Rowan, call me Wolfe. If you call me Highness one more time, I’ll—”
“What?” She arches a brow. Cheeky girl. “What are you going to do?”
Lifting my outstretched hand to her shoulder and letting my fingers curl around the nape of her neck, I brush my thumb over her cheek. “I’ll make you regret it,” I growl.
Rowan’s breath trembles through parted lips as she blinks in rapid succession. Then, as if in a trance, she puts her tumbler down and takes a step toward me.
“Okay. What do you want to show me?”
I erase the distance between us, letting my chest brush against hers. There it is—her soft, hesitant breath. Yielding to me. Rowan lifts her eyes up to mine, staring at me through thick lashes. I let my fingers drift down the side of her body, resting them on her hip.
“Do you get nervous when I’m close to you?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.
“No,” Rowan says, her voice quivering ever so slightly.
“Liar.” My fingers slide around to her back, pulling her body tight to mine. “I can feel your pulse hammering.”