The Outlaw Prince's Captive - Holly Rayner Page 0,28

to put on a coat over his T-shirt.

He’s insane, she thought. But at the same time, she couldn’t help marveling at his physique.

Then she blinked, surprised at herself.

What was she thinking? She wasn’t here to admire his good looks, for God’s sake. This was why she hadn’t wanted to call him by his first name—she’d been afraid she would lose track of the distance she was supposed to be maintaining from him.

The last thing I want is to be one of those flighty girls who falls under his spell, she thought, remembering the tabloid photos she had seen of Viggo with a parade of different women. If he thought he was going to charm her like that, he was sorely mistaken.

And yet, he was extraordinarily good-looking. It showed through much more clearly in real life than it had in photographs. Francesca could see that she was going to have to keep herself under control. She would have to make sure that her thoughts remained strictly professional while she was here.

She darted back to the kitchen, not wanting to be caught watching him, and by the time he returned, she was eating her omelet as if nothing had happened.

Viggo dropped her keys on the counter. “Your suitcase is in the hall,” he said. “Let me know if you’d like me to help you carry it upstairs.”

“I can manage that,” Francesca said firmly. She was determined not to accept his help anymore, if she could avoid it.

He had already done enough.

Chapter 10

After hauling her suitcase up the two flights of stairs to her room, Francesca wanted nothing more than to collapse on her bed and recover her breathing. But she was determined not to relax while she was here. Doing so, she knew, would be the thing that would lead to trouble for her.

Instead, she called Laird.

“Are you snowed in too?” she asked him.

“Check the news,” he said. “Actually, hang on. I’m emailing you an article. You can read this when we hang up. The whole island is shut down indefinitely. They’re saying it’s the worst snowstorm of the decade.”

“Are you all right?” she asked him. “Do you have everything you need at the hotel?”

He laughed humorlessly. “Am I all right?” he asked. “I’m at a five-star hotel, Frannie. I’m ordering room service and sending my clothes out to be laundered. I’m fine.”

“Why do you sound like that?”

“What do I sound like?”

“I don’t know. Pissed off.”

“And you can’t think why that would be?”

“Are you going to stay mad at me for the rest of our time in Konäs?” Francesca asked him. “Okay, so I acted impulsively. I admit that. But we still don’t know how all this is going to turn out.”

“No, we don’t,” Laird said. “I was up half the night worrying about it. Do you know how many times I almost called Voles and told him what was going on?”

Francesca gasped. “You didn’t do that, did you?”

“No,” Laird said. “But I almost did.”

“He’d send in the cavalry if you did,” Francesca said.

“He wouldn’t be able to,” Laird said. “That’s the only thing that eventually made up my mind. With Konäs in total lockdown, there would be nothing Voles could do to get you out of there even if he did know where you were. So at this point, we might as well just try to follow your plan.”

Francesca breathed a sigh of relief. “Thanks, Matt.”

“Don’t thank me,” he said. “If I’d been a little smarter, I would have stopped you from going in there at all. Or I would have driven out and brought you back while I still could. The fact that I didn’t is going to haunt me for a long time.” He sighed. “I can’t help thinking that it’s my fault that you’re snowbound with a murderer.”

“He’s not a murderer, Matt,” Francesca pointed out again. “A hit-and-run isn’t premeditated murder. We talked about this.”

“Yeah, we did,” Laird said. “And we also talked about how anyone who could flee the scene of a crime like he did obviously has no respect for human life.”

“We don’t know that,” Francesca said.

“Could you do it?” he challenged her. “If you hit someone, could you just drive away? Flee the country?”

Francesca thought about the way Viggo had insisted that he was innocent. The way he had laughed when she had mentioned his crime, as if the only thing that mattered was the extradition law that would prevent him from being brought to justice. He had seemed so cold. So heartless.

“No,” she admitted.