Heir Untamed - By Danielle Bourdon Page 0,15

shelf, perfect for shots from the side. Because she couldn't help herself, she straightened one or two books from their crooked lean.

She became aware that she wasn't alone when the faint tink of ice in a glass hit her ears. Glancing toward one of the high-backed chairs facing the fireplace, Chey groaned. Someone was sitting there. All she could see was an arm, a hand, and a tumbler.

“Can't sleep?” Mattias asked.

“I'm sorry, I didn't know anyone was in here. Excuse--”

“You needn't rush off. Come, sit.” He used his glass to gesture at the opposite, empty chair.

It was the last thing Chey wanted to do. While he intrigued her, she also knew he was involved, and she didn't want anyone else walking in and getting the wrong idea. On the other hand, she might not get this kind of opportunity again. It wasn't every day that she got to sit and chat with Royalty.

Chey crossed the room and eased down into the chair, sitting on the edge rather than making herself comfortable in the plush confines.

Mattias, bare chested and bare foot, wore only a sleek pair of black lounge pants that sat low on his hips. A swirl of dark hair started on his chest, made a line down his stomach, and disappeared beneath the band at his waist. He was in excellent physical condition. Muscular, honed.

She took all that in with a quick glance, heat rising in her cheeks. “Do you always sit and contemplate cold fireplaces?”

Mattias regarded her in that way he had, as if he was trying to figure out all her most personal thoughts and feelings. “Sometimes. Especially when I have much on my mind. I didn't expect to see you taking pictures this late.”

His tone said, I didn't expect to see you at all this late.

“As you guessed, I couldn't sleep. It's difficult to when you're staying in a castle for the first time. I'm restless or something.” The urge to explore distracted her as much as her unique circumstances did.

“I imagine so. Tell me what you think of our home, then.” He invited her to elaborate as if they'd known each other a lot longer than one day.

Chey exhaled and glanced around the extensive library. The mantle over the fireplace held what looked to be priceless statuettes and brass candlesticks.

“It's hard to put into words this soon,” she admitted. “Of course I think it's lovely. But there is something else, too. Almost as if the castle is brooding.”

She glanced back to Mattias in time to see his brow arch.

“That is an interesting way of putting it,” he said.

“That's how it appears to me. And secretive. If these walls could talk, I can only imagine what they would say.”

“Don't you think most ancestral homes are like that?” He swirled the remains of his drink around his glass and lifted it for a sip. Watching her over the rim.

Chey shifted on the seat. “I don't know. I've never been to other ancestral homes. This is just how yours strikes me.”

“Like most castles, this one has roots in dark parts of history. Men—and women—have been killed here. One of my ancestors, Prince Gustav, was hanged in what is now the East garden. This castle has been laid siege to, has seen Royalty born within its walls, and has weathered its share of scandal.” Mattias finished his drink and set the glass aside on a small table.

Fascinated, Chey studied his eyes. “Is that the garden that is off limits to me?”

“Yes. It is one my mother and sister favor and they do not like to be disturbed. Would you like to see it?” His mouth curved into a somewhat devilish smile.

“Are you certain I won't get in trouble?” Chey wanted to see the garden more than ever now, but Allar's strict warnings echoed through her mind. Under no circumstances was she to enter the garden.

Mattias pushed up from the chair with leonine ease. “When a Prince invites you anywhere here, take that as a golden access pass. If anyone troubles you over it, send them to me.”

Chey was tempted to tell him about the incident with Sander earlier in the woods, even if it wasn't related, and promptly dismissed it. She wasn't prone to 'tattling' and in reality, no harm had really been done. It didn't mean she wasn't still irked at Sander Fisk, but she wasn't going to out him.

“I'll remember you said that.” Chey stood when Mattias did, hyper-aware of his naked chest, the lean angles of