A Royal Wedding - By Trish Morey Page 0,11

ache in her breasts and made her wonder what he’d have tasted like if he’d kissed her back there …

Madness, she decided. He’d done the right thing in turning away. She didn’t want to kiss him. She was here to do a job. She didn’t need the complications.

Yet still she wondered …

Soon they were back in the castle, past the stone door and making their way up the winding stairs. There was space here, and light, though gloomy and thin. The sound of the wind was growing louder. She wondered if things might be different now they were above ground, not so strained and tense between them. And then a shutter banged somewhere and curtains fluttered on unseen draughts.

‘A storm is building,’ he told her over his shoulder. Unnecessarily, she thought. Given the setting and her dark companion, she would have been more surprised if a storm wasn’t building.

Then he did surprise her, by showing her into the room that was to be her office. It was remarkably well thought out. No external windows to let in draughts or damp. A large desk to spread her things out with lamps for extra lighting. A heater in one corner. A dehumidifier in another. She circled the room, stopped before the desk and nodded her appreciation as she took it all in.

‘Did the Professor give you a shopping list?’

She turned and took a step back and gasped, so surprised to find him within a metre of her that she took another involuntary step backwards against the desk, one hand reaching down to steady her, the other over her pounding heart, willing it to slow. So much for his impact being less intense above the ground. An aura surrounded him, a mantle of power and presence, and a scent that wove its way into her senses like a drug. So how exactly was she supposed to calm her racing heart?

His eyes glinted, his lips curving into the slightest smile, as if he was relishing her reaction. ‘You really think I would take chances with something potentially so precious?’ He nodded knowingly before she could reply. ‘But of course, you do. You thought I was irresponsible to leave it in the caves, didn’t you? In the place that had harboured it safely for perhaps hundreds of years.’

She licked her lips, regretting the gesture immediately when his scent turned to taste on her lips. Regretting it more when she saw his eyes follow the sweep of her tongue.

‘I’ll admit it,’ she said, trying to get a foothold on the conversation and justify her position. Because she had thought exactly that. Until she’d felt the air down there and realised it was probably the reason why the pages were in such good condition. ‘It did seem a trifle reckless, at least—’

‘Reckless? ‘ he repeated, jumping on the word, his eyes gleaming, refusing to let hers go. ‘I take it you’re not a fan of being reckless, Ms Hunter?’

‘No, but—’

‘But you make exceptions?’

‘No! That wasn’t what I was going to say at all.’

His eyes gleamed, searching hers with a heated intensity that left her breathless, until with a blink they cooled and flicked towards his wristwatch and then at the door, as if he had somewhere he had to be. ‘No. You really don’t seem the type. And now I shall leave you. Anything else you need, Bruno will see to it for you.’

Right now she could uncharacteristically do with a stiff drink, though she’d quite happily settle for tea. She was still strangely stinging from that ‘you really don’t seem the type’, and she wasn’t even sure why. She’d never been reckless in her entire life. She’d been too driven, so focused on what she wanted that even her friends at university had affectionately labelled her a nerd.

‘How will I find Bruno?’ she asked, surprising herself with how calm she sounded now that he’d eased away and given her space. ‘If I need him?’

‘Bruno will find you. He has a way of anticipating one’s needs.’

A psychic henchman? But of course a count would need one of those, along with his secret tunnels and his crumbling castle. It was just what she needed to improve her mood. ‘Excellent,’ she rejoined, with exaggerated enthusiasm and a smile designed to get right under his skin. ‘Then it appears I’m all set. I’d better get to work.’

And with a glower and a nod he was gone and she could breathe again.

She slumped into the nearest chair. The pages, she thought,

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