Masked Prince - Nikolai Andrew Page 0,16

soon as fucking possible.”

Rather than embracing me and kissing me as he had every night when he left, this time he took my hand palm-down in his fingers and kissed the back, bowing slightly, and then he turned to go.

I was so shocked that I couldn’t even muster a protest. It was like he didn’t even know me. Or, I realized, like he didn’t want the guards to know how close we had become.

That, at least, I could understand. Randal walked with long, authoritative strides down the path and then mounted the big white stallion in one easy, practiced, effortless movement. And then they were gone, with hoofs pounding.

As the dust settled, I felt both confused and frightened, in addition to shocked and heartbroken. My heart ached with uncertainty and a pinch of embarrassment. I placed my hand over the place where he had kissed the back of my palm, trying to get my bearings, searching my memory of our conversations for any hint of what might have just happened.

Here I’d thought I’d been getting to know him, but I didn’t know him at all. For all our days together, I had babbled away…but what did I really know about him? What had he really told me about himself?

Nothing, I realized. Nothing at all.

Who was he? What kind of man was he, really? And what on earth could he possibly have done to be wanted by the royal guards?

Then I realized. He had been hired as a carpenter by the royal family to repair the barns and buildings. Instead? He’d been here. Helping me. Neglecting his duties.

I’d been selfish and now, he was going to pay the price.

Chapter 6

Randal

Goddamn it.

I saw the fear and confusion in her eyes and I fucking hated that I couldn’t explain to her that everything was fine. If I’d explained anything about who the guards were or how they knew where to find me, I would have given myself away.

And I wasn’t even close to ready to tell her that I wasn’t some carpenter who “happened” upon her farm.

Hell no. I was the bastard prince. The heir apparent. The future king. And I was fucking determined to have her as mine, no matter what I had to give up to do it.

The guards that had come for me weren’t my men; they were my father’s. The whole ride back to the castle, I’d been trying to guess what the hell they wanted. But his men were loyal to him, same as mine were to me, and they didn’t tell me a single damned thing.

Bullshit, but not a surprise. As far as I knew, the kingdom was safe… but what the fuck did I know from the last week, other than every freckle on Iris’ cheeks or the way she bit her tongue when she giggled? Or the way she ate raspberries one a time?

When it came to the kingdom, I knew there wasn’t that much that could change in a week. But when it came to how I felt about her, that was another story. In a matter of a week, I’d fallen so fucking in love with her I could hardly think of anything else at all.

Fuck the kingdom, I thought, as I rode hard toward the drawbridge. Fuck it all. All that matters is her.

But at least for the time being, I’d have to focus on something other than Iris and everything I wanted to do with her tits, ass and pussy.

My father’s men and I approached the castle gates and the royal grooms came out to get the horses. The grooms didn’t look at me, but I knew that had everything to do with respect and nothing to do with my scars and burns. I didn’t care about being unmasked right now. The grooms knew me well enough, and they were also loyal to my father and me. As soon as we entered the palace, I hooked a right to go to my quarters—I never walked around within the royal premises unmasked.

One of the guards blocked my way and grabbed my arm.

“King Bramain wants to see you urgently. You’re to go straight to his bed chamber. Those are our orders.”

This motherfucker right here. I shoved him back to get his hands off me.

“Lemme ask you something, man. Do you see the King anywhere out here?”

The head guard was trying to look assertive, but as his eyes faltered, I could tell he knew he’d seriously overstepped. Laying his hands on me? Fucker was