Heir Untamed - By Danielle Bourdon Page 0,17
see why they love it so.” She stepped over a small bridge that straddled the creek to get a shot of a gazebo smothered in vines and tiny pink flowers.
“I suppose. Personally, I prefer more rugged pursuits.” Mattias sounded unimpressed with the garden.
“Such as?” Chey swung the camera around and snapped off a shot of Mattias framed by the castle, just about to cross the bridge.
His gaze met the camera, enigmatic and as secretive as the garden they stood in.
Chey lowered the camera and smiled. “I figure Viia will enjoy that as much as you will enjoy the ones I take of her.”
His lips ticked into a somewhat wry smile. “Perhaps she will.”
“Stop there on the bridge and I'll take another. That's a great shot.” Chey pointed with a finger right where she wanted him. To her surprise, Mattias complied. He leaned a sleek hip against the arching rail, slid his hands into the pockets of the lounge pants and crossed one bare foot over the other.
He was the picture of a rake, dark hair sweeping his brow. Even in repose, Mattias commanded the same sense of animal magnetism and regal bearing as he had earlier, dressed in his fine suit.
Chey tried to capture that aspect of him, though really, she thought to herself, it wasn't hard when Mattias exuded it with such ease.
“What the hell do you think you're doing?” a feminine voice snapped from the shadows.
Startled, Chey lowered the camera. Natalia stood on the footpath, tumbler in her fingers, glaring straight at Chey. She wore a diaphanous gown of white that lapped at her ankles and scooped low on her chest.
It didn't take Chey but a second to realize Natalia was six sheets to the wind. Not drunk enough to stagger or slur, but drunk nevertheless.
“I'm--” Chey, about to explain, got cut off by Mattias.
“She's with me. Stay your tongue, sister,” Mattias said, warning clear in his tone.
Natalia never looked away from Chey. She pointed a finger around the glass. “She is not supposed to be here. What will mother say?”
“She will marvel over the pictures of her favorite private place.” Mattias stepped away from the rail, sliding his hands out of his pockets. When he glanced at Chey, there was a message easily read in his dark eyes: Do not ever speak of what you see here.
Chey nodded and crossed the bridge back to the other side.
“Our private place! She's violated it and now we can never come here without wondering if she's skulking in the shadows, taking pictures of us!” Natalia screeched in fury, her beautiful face torqued into a mask of disdain. Cocking her arm back, she hurled the glass at Chey's head.
Mattias shot a hand out, but wasn't quick enough to block the hurtling tumbler.
Lucky for Chey, she'd been watching the altercation like a hawk, and ducked her head away from the projectile. Glass shattered against the edge of a fountain. Shards rained over the cobbled walk like bits of diamond. Shocked at the woman's anger, Chey made eye contact once more with Mattias, who had been scowling at his sister. He inclined his head toward the double doors, indicating it was high time to leave.
“Don't you ever come here again!” Natalia shouted.
Chey departed the garden with quick strides, concerned that Natalia's bellow would bring the guards. Breaking into a trot, she found her way along the private corridor, sure that someone was going to catch her here by herself and raise the alarm.
The hallways, so far, were empty.
Chey made it back to the main hall, which was common ground for her, and breathed a sigh of relief. Taking the stairs at a jog, she headed for her bedroom, wondering if Natalia's drinking was routine. Mattias hadn't seemed surprised to find her inebriated. In fact, his whole demeanor had become one of spare tolerance, as if he had to deal with it more often than he preferred.
In the safety of her bedroom, Chey closed the door and leaned against it, out of breath from the stairs.
What a way to end her first full day in the Royal castle.
Hopefully, it wouldn't be her last.
Chapter Four
The little hidden lake at sunrise was spectacular. Chey stood behind the tripod, lining up a stunning shot lengthwise across the water. She'd risen at dawn and hit the stables right after, intending on capturing the photos she wanted despite the previous day, and the previous evening's events.
Tugging habitually on the hem of the pale blue sweater she wore over jeans,