Sound of Madness A Dark Royal Romance - Maria Luis Page 0,108

slept beside a woman for the first time in my life last night.

My arm tucked around her waist, her back nestled against my bare chest, our legs intertwined. And while I didn’t allow sleep to claim me, breathing in Rowena’s scent throughout the night was the closest I’ve come to experiencing soul-deep peace. Even now, I’m drawn to her.

At my side, my fingers curl into a tight fist of restraint.

Better that than storming across the drive and slamming my mouth down on hers, mercy be damned.

“Going somewhere?” she calls, lifting a hand to shield her eyes from the early morning sun. “Or is it that you’ve had enough of me already?”

The tone of her voice, that cunning smile . . . The she-wolf has come out to play.

When I reach her side, I drop my duffel to the pavement and bring my arms down on either side of her, parking my hands on the car. “Have you a confession to make?” I lower my face to hers, noting that she’s done something to conceal the healing skin on her temple and jaw. And her lips . . . Jesus, she’s painted them red. “Or is there a reason you’ve ditched the joggers I tore off you an hour ago for a skirt?”

Violet eyes sear mine just before she catches my mouth with her own. Then, against my lips, she murmurs, “You aren’t the only one with secrets, Godwin.” From her cleavage, she produces a tiny, handheld camera. “You made the mistake of thinking that we don’t watch our prisoners very, very closely here at Holly Village.”

I eye the camera with disdain. “Is this payback for the tracker?”

“It’s my way of ensuring that I’m not shoved aside in helping Margaret stay alive.” Reaching for my hand, she closes my fingers over the palm-sized device. “So, why are we heading to Broadmoor Hospital this morning?”

Fucking hell.

“We,” I grunt, “are not going anywhere.”

When I step to the right, she follows swiftly and plants herself directly in front of me. Her gaze is sharp, her red mouth still curled in that smile that makes me want to strip her naked and fuck her ten ways from Sunday. “Don’t worry, Damien, I’m willing to overlook your mistake in thinking that I’ll somehow hold you back from whatever asinine plan had you bent over your laptop at the crack of dawn.”

Asinine plan?

Brows lowering, I scowl at her. “I’m making a mistake, am I?”

“Men have a habit of complicating matters,” she says, nodding toward the camera as if to prove her point. “Based on what I read over your shoulder this morning, you’re timing your arrival at Broadmoor with its daily security check at ten-sharp. I’m going to guess, although I could be wrong, of course, that you’re hoping to cut the alarm without anyone realizing that you’ve snuck yourself in. But are you taking documents? Seeing a patient? So many choices. Anyway, how did I do? On the nose?”

Rowena Carrigan will be the death of me.

And, if I didn’t know any better, I’d swear that she’s enjoying the hell out of this.

Just to rattle that smug smile of hers, I hook a finger over the collar of her shirt and slip the camera back into place between her tits. Then I grin at her, dark and ruthless. “It’s called staging a kidnapping, love.”

She surprises me not by reeling back in shock but by actually leaning forward to pat my chest like I’m a treasure that needs safeguarding.

Or, in other words, a complete idiot.

“And that,” she chirps, “is why men complicate everything. Women—me, in particular—always know a person who knows a person. Lucky for you, I once spent a ridiculous number of hours at a charity dinner sitting next to the hospital’s director. She’s lovely, by the way.”

It takes superhuman effort not to let my jaw fall open. “What?”

Though Rowena blinks up at me, there’s a hawkish awareness in her gaze that tells me she’s already strategizing her next five steps. “I’ll ring her when we get there and walk right in the front door while I do it.” With a sway of her hips, she bumps me out of the way and motions for me to unlock the door. “If you would, please.”

“Rowena, I’m not sure if you heard me but this is a kid—”

“The door, Damien.” She smiles, wide. “Don’t you trust me?”

When she looks at me like that, like she can see right into my battered soul, I’d be a fucking fool to say