Protecting The Princess - Nadine Millard Page 0,41
private coach than squashed into a public one. I’m only thinking of your best interests.”
That wasn’t entirely true. He was thinking of having two days alone with her to plead his case and beg for her forgiveness.
But short of kidnapping her and throwing her bodily into a carriage, he couldn’t force her to acquiesce.
They’d stopped outside the coaching inn, and Jacob jumped lightly down from the gig, rushing around to her side, lest she stubbornly try to disembark herself.
He held up his arms and she scowled at him before sighing and allowing him to lift her down.
They were in the middle of a public courtyard in broad daylight, yet Jacob couldn’t help but hold onto her even after her feet had touched the ground.
The feel of her pressed against him, the scent of her skin, and those heart-breaking eyes were too tempting, too precious to him.
Harriet pushed against his chest, but he refused to let her go until she glared up at him.
“Let me go,” she spat.
“I will,” he said softly. “But I have to tell you something first.”
“I don’t want to listen to anything you have to say,” she threw back defiantly.
“Harriet, I hurt you. I was dishonest, and you have suffered for it, and I hate that. I can’t change it, but I can try to explain. To make it up to you, somehow. If you’ll let me.”
Her expression hadn’t changed, but he saw a flash of something in the deep brown depths of her eyes. Some intense emotion.
But in an instant, it was gone, and she merely looked angry again.
Jacob dropped his hands but kept her trapped between his body and the gig behind her.
“What is there to explain?” she demanded. “It’s perfectly clear to me what happened. You were hired to take care of me like a big, overgrown nanny. And you lied about who you were.”
“So did you,” he interrupted gently. It was probably madness to argue with her, but he was desperate to get through this with her.
Harriet huffed out an impatient breath.
“My lie didn’t hurt you, Jacob.”
She spoke softly, and to his cravat, but her words cut him to the quick. Because she was right.
“I didn’t mean to hurt you, sweetheart. I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.”
She looked at him then, right into his soul.
“You made me think that you—that we—”
Her cheeks grew furiously red, and to Jacob’s horror, her eyes filled with tears.
She tried rapidly blinking them away, but one escaped and that lone drop falling down her smooth cheek ravaged him.
“Harriet.” He reached out once more, clasping her upper arms and bending so he could look fully into her eyes, so she could see the sincerity in the depths of his own. “Everything that happened between us these last two weeks. Everything I’ve said. Everything I’ve done—has been the absolute truth. This started out as assignment—you started out as an assignment. But that changed.”
She gazed at him, and he couldn’t read anything in her expression.
“Please,” he continued hoarsely. “You have to believe me. Harriet, I—”
“Your Highness?”
Jacob and Harriet both turned at the sound of a surprised, feminine voice.
He swore under his breath.
The last thing he needed right now was Harriet being recognised.
“Thank goodness, I found you.”
A tall, elegant lady hurried over.
“Oh, no.” Jacob turned back to see Harriet’s face fall. “Althea Furberg.”
“Lady Althea.”
Harriet stepped quickly away from Jacob, pulling her royal mask firmly into place.
The last thing she needed was Althea Furberg’s prying eyes noticing anything going on between her and Jacob.
How the lady had ended up here in Gant, Harriet had no idea. But she was here now, and much as Harriet disliked her, she might just provide a solution to Harriet’s current problem.
Namely, getting as far away from Jacob and the temptation to fall back under his spell as possible. As quickly as possible.
“What has brought you to Gant?” She did her level best to keep her tone even, as though it wasn’t at all odd for her to be alone with a strange man, dressed in a servant’s cloak, and away from the palace.
“Why, I came to find you, Your Highness.”
Harriet frowned in confusion as Lady Althea stepped closer still, lowering her voice conspiratorially.
“His Royal Highness sent me to get you,” she whispered.
Harriet stared at the lady in amazement.
Just how many dratted minders had Christopher sent after her?
“H-he told me what happened.”
The patronising, faintly disapproving look in Lady Althea’s eyes made Harriet want to scratch them out.
“About how you had acted out when he was