Heir Untamed - By Danielle Bourdon Page 0,52

suspicion in his eyes. Chey gave nothing away. She murmured her thanks and stepped into the sitting room. Urmas turned on a heel and marched away.

Chey waited a few feet from the entrance. Waited for Mattias to address her. He took his time about it, finally slanting a look across the room. His eyes swept her head to toe, lingering on her waist and the sparkle at her throat. Once again, he exuded a sense of animal magnetism so strong it was almost impossible to ignore.

Fresh from her romp with Sander, Chey could look at Mattias now and not be moved as she once might have been. Oh, he was handsome. And a Prince. In line to the throne. Any woman in her right mind would fight for a shot at his affection. How ironic, she thought, that she preferred the rough-and-tumble head of security to the pristine elegance of a Prince. Not that Mattias had romantic designs on her. He'd made that clear at lunch the day before.

“You'll be the most exquisite woman in the room,” Mattias predicted. He toasted her with his wine glass and had a long drink.

Chey lifted her chin and smiled, performing a small curtsy that was less clumsy than the ones before it. She'd watched and learned from other staff members.

“Thank you, Mister Ahtissari. The gift you loaned me is extraordinarily beautiful and I'm proud to wear it tonight.” Her fingers lifted to brush gently across the diamond at her throat.

He set his glass on a table and strolled over. Without pause, he circled her, looking at every inch of the dress. Of her flesh. “It is not a loan, Chey. It's a gift. Your gift. I'm pleased you like it.”

She gasped. “What? Mattias, I can't--”

“Can you not?” he asked, arriving before her. He reached out to touch a carefully arranged curl.

“No. It's far too fine. I'm happy to wear it tonight, however.” She stuck to her guns, denying the gift out of hand. He was spending too much money on her. Money she hadn't earned or deserved.

He leaned his head toward her. The subtle scent of his cologne was alluring and seductive. “It's a gift. Has no one ever told you it's rude to deny one given in gratitude?”

Chey swallowed and held his eyes. “Gratitude for what?”

“For being my companion this evening, of course.” He leaned out of her personal space and offered his elbow in a fashion much more regal than Urmas had.

“It's an awfully expensive gift to attend a one night function,” she said. Slipping her fingers under the bend of his elbow, she followed when he led her from the room and into the hallway.

“I think you should worry less about how much things cost and more about the thought behind it.” His expression waned contemplative.

“I have. It's still extravagant.” Chey walked with him to the end of the hall, where a guard opened a door not easily seen unless you were standing right in front of it.

Mattias led her through the arch and down a flight of broad, red velvet covered stairs. Low lights in sconces on the walls cast off an ambient glow. “It doesn't come with any strings attached, if that's what you're worried about.”

Maybe part of that had been the reason for her hesitance. Like with the dress. “I suspected not. I guess I'm unused to gifts of this nature, that's all.”

“Then get used to it.” He cut her a half smile and led her through another arch to a door that opened on cue by another guard.

From there, another, longer hall with windows along one wall stretched away deeper into the castle. Mattias escorted her toward the front instead of the back, where faint strains of music could be heard coming from one of the great ballrooms.

The double doors he aimed for were not the main entrance to the room. Chey knew because she'd seen the expansive archways leading into both ballrooms and this wasn't it. A private entrance, then, probably only used by the Royals. Bracing herself, she fortified her resolve and stepped into the ballroom on Mattias's arm.

Transformed into a gilded paradise, it took Chey's breath away. Gold lamae draped the walls, accented by red and gold shields keeping the material shaped like a swag. Red linen covered tables lining the edge of the room, the tall chairs carved in a baroque style reminiscent of early French designers. Candelabra stood at certain points along the walls, the flame flickering shadows across the tables