Protecting The Princess - Nadine Millard Page 0,26

a good way to do that, he reminded himself fiercely.

“Let me start a fire,” he said evenly as his sharp eyes took in the wringing of her hands, the stiffness in her shoulders.

“Oh, that’s quite all right,” she answered, her smile as brittle as her faux-breezy tone. “I shan’t keep you any longer, Mr. Lauer. You’ve been so very helpful. But I can manage from here.”

He knew that she knew he wasn’t going to leave. Could tell by the hopeful light in her gaze, the defiant tilt of her chin. She was preparing for battle. He was starting to recognise the signs.

“We both know I’m not leaving, Miss Royal.” He tried to sound firm but unthreatening. “So, why don’t I make a fire and you can empty those bags, try to find something clean that I can tend to your head wound with.”

The wringing of her hands stopped.

“I hardly think that’s necessary. Tis just a scratch.”

Jacob sighed, making sure she knew how tedious he found her arguments. By the narrowing of her eyes, he’d guess that he’d conveyed his opinion rather well.

“Let’s not go through all of this again,” he said. “I’m not discussing or arguing about anything else until you’re comfortable and that wound is taken care of.”

“And then?” she asked with quite insulting hope.

“And then—” Jacob couldn’t resist a teasing grin. “We’ll get ourselves all cosy and settled down for the night.”

Chapter Twelve

At least her voice wasn’t shrill when she was angry, Jacob mused as he collected water from the stream that ran behind the cottage.

He didn’t think his ears could take her blistering if she had begun screeching.

There was no denying she was furious at his high-handedness.

He could handle her temper. Harder to handle was his bizarre attraction to it.

He’d escaped to get water, as much to let his ardour cool as her temper.

Dipping the bowl into the icy stream, Jacob contemplated throwing himself in there for good measure.

But, no.

Beautiful she may be. Spirited and courageous. But she was also spoilt, and argumentative, and unreasonable.

He didn’t need cold water to take the edge off his inexplicable desire for her. Her personality was sure to do that for him.

Feeling much more level-headed, he went back inside, grateful that the princess was where he’d instructed her to stay.

It wouldn’t have surprised him if she’d made a run for it.

But as he raked his gaze over her diminutive form huddled on the cot, Jacob realised that she was likely too exhausted to run anywhere.

Her cheeks were pale and her eyes glassy.

A spurt of guilt shook him, and Jacob knew he should go easier on the princess.

A strange man, a giant compared to her, had imposed himself on her in an isolated cottage miles from her home and her family.

Jacob knew he wouldn’t ever harm her, but the princess didn’t know that—though he suspected that she trusted him, though likely begrudgingly.

She’d done as he had asked, at least, and he was pleased to see that she’d had the foresight to pack up some linen strips for her trip. They were laid out neatly beside her.

Her hair was tumbling down her back, the pins having been lost to the arduous journey, he’d imagine.

Jacob felt his throat dry as he watched the flames from the fire send light dancing over the sable curls, making them appear almost navy-blue at times.

He’d never seen hair as dark nor as luxurious. And his fingers itched to run through the tresses to see if they felt as silky as they looked.

Clearing his throat, he moved to the fire to heat the water, aware that he’d been gaping at her like a schoolboy with an infatuation.

“I don’t suppose you have food in there?” He nodded toward the bag that she hadn’t yet opened, sitting beside the one that she’d rummaged in for the bandages.

To his surprise, her face lit with a triumphant grin.

“I’m not completely without my senses, Mr. Lauer,” she said, and he was relieved that she’d lost some of that wide-eyed distrust that she’d been glaring at him with since he’d announced that he was staying at the cottage.

She’d ranted and raved, even while he’d moved her bodily to the cot and told her to sit.

It was only when he’d assured her that he’d sleep outside with the horse if it made her feel more comfortable that she’d finally settled down.

That, and the fact that she’d begun swaying alarmingly.

He answered her grin with one of his own. A truce was better than a war, after all.

“May