Claiming His Princess: Duty at What Cost? / A Throne for the Taking / Princess in the Iron Mask

Within seconds he was on her, the flat of his hand slamming loudly against the wardrobe door as she was about to open it. ‘You think I’m made out of ice, Princess? How quickly you forget.’

She spun around, her eyes wide, her breaths punching the air. Was that fear or anticipation he read in her dilated pupils?

He looked at her. At the silvery striations in her dark eyes and the tiny row of freckles that lined one side of her upper lip. Unable to help himself, he slid a hand into her hair and tilted her face up to his. Their eyes clashed in a battle of wills. He told himself to back off, settle down, but his gaze dropped to her soft mouth and he couldn’t think of anything else but kissing her. Taking her.

Her nostrils flared as if sensing his need, and instead of crushing her lips beneath his he lightly brushed against them.

Once.

Twice.

She moaned and tried to draw his tongue into her mouth, but he’d thought about kissing her like this for weeks and now he didn’t want to be rushed. He slipped his other arm around her waist and drew her against him, all the while teasing her lips with his. She twisted in his hold, her mouth moving beneath his as if she was as desperate for the contact as he was. As if she’d thought about this as often as he had. His hands swept over her back, cupping her firm butt and bringing her in closer against his pulsing hardness.

Her own hands were just as busy, roaming his chest, curving around his shoulders, burning him wherever she touched.

The sensation of her velvet tongue flicking against his threatened to drive him to his knees, and he pressed her against the wardrobe and wedged his leg between her thighs to keep them both upright. Her head thudded lightly against the wardrobe door and he cupped the nape of her neck and urged her mouth to open wider. She was like molten silk in his arms, sliding against him, urging him on with her husky whimpers for more.

Wolfe had felt his control slipping the moment he walked into the room. Now he had none. Even the thin barrier of their clothes was too much between them, and his hands stroked over her, shifting the slippery fabric aside as he sought the sweet perfection of her breasts.

For God only knew how long he was lost. A slave to sensation. A slave to her soft scent and even softer body. A slave to her heat, to the tug of her feminine fingers in his hair. If there was some reason he shouldn’t be doing this he couldn’t think of it.

Behind him he heard the snick of the latch as the door was quietly opened.

Thrusting Ava behind him he spun, his gun drawn, but even as he did so he knew he was at least two seconds too late.

The maid gasped softly and nearly fainted, but other than the sound of his own ragged breathing you could have heard a feather float to the floor.

So much for not making any more mistakes, Ice.

Hell.

If he needed a clearer example of just how poorly he was doing at the job of protecting her he didn’t want to know what it was.

Wolfe stood motionless at the back of yet another extravagant ballroom and knew that despite donning yet another squillion-dollar tux he was doing nothing to blend into the glitterati of Paris. He was too angry with himself to care.

He should never have kissed her.

Now it was not only uncomfortable to watch her in the arms of another man, it was downright impossible. How his father had taken his mother back time after time Wolfe didn’t know. He only knew he couldn’t do it. If Ava chose someone else—Lorenzo—then she could have him.

Hell.

Of course she was going to choose someone else. That was the whole point of these elaborate tea parties and gala events. She was husband hunting and he thanked God he wasn’t on her list.

Didn’t he?

Of course he did. Even posing that question was a sign that he needed to step back. A very long way back.

And he would. In fact he already had. In—he checked his watch—fifteen minutes everything would have changed for the better. He blew out a long breath and dragged in some perspective with his next inhalation.

He knew how it felt to feel that someone you loved didn’t love you, and…Oh, hell. He couldn’t keep thinking like this. It felt as if his precious rules were in tatters, and he’d already thought and spoken more about his past in the last week than he had in twenty years. Next he’d be imagining that lust was love, and then where would he be? Hung out to dry like his old man, that was where. Talk about perspective.

It was a cliché that the client often fell for the bodyguard. It was just a hot mess if the opposite occurred, and he fixed hot messes—he didn’t create them.

Telling himself she was just like any another woman wasn’t working either. He wanted her. Not just any woman. Her.

When he had taken this gig his arrogant fat head had led him to believe he could control himself around her. Yeah, right. He’d proved in her hotel room two hours ago that he showed about as much control around her as a shark in a blood bath.

As a special ops soldier he had been trained to dig deep when every bone, muscle and tendon in his body was screaming for rest. He was trained to hold his line under extreme forms of torture no man should ever have to face. Apparently they hadn’t thought to train him to resist desire of this magnitude. Of course in reality he could resist her—there was simply some part of him that didn’t want to. And that was the part that scared him the most.

Ten minutes.

He shifted his weight to the balls of his feet and searched the baroque-style ballroom for her. She wasn’t hard to find in that showstopper of swirling scarlet that hugged every inch of her lush curves—those it managed to contain anyway. If she’d wanted to make a statement of availability she’d succeeded. And Lorenzo was in the market and had the correct weight to buy.

But not Wolfe. his life was mapped out just as surely as hers. Work, women and play—in that order. It was a great life. A life any man with his head screwed on right would envy. A life he had never questioned before and, dammit, still didn’t. That soft, sexy sound she made every time he slipped his tongue into her mouth was nothing he wouldn’t forget with time.

Raucous laughter from somewhere behind him brought him out of his daze. Where the hell was she? The ever-moving crowd kept blocking his view, but even so his sixth sense told him she wasn’t there.

An icy chill slid down his spine.

Glancing to the left, he caught the eye of one of his team acting as a waiter. Jonesy subtly signalled towards the patio doors leading to the gardens. His mouth tightened. He’d told her not to leave the room. No doubt the perfect Prince of Triole had taken her outside, and that wasn’t going to happen on his watch.

Furious with himself for yet another lapse in concentration, Wolfe wove a determined line through the throng of guests until he was outside. Giving his eyes a moment to adjust to the dim light, he strained his hearing for the sound of her voice. Then he saw the flash of her strapless gown through the trees and the matching red stripe down the side of the Prince’s trousers. His and hers. Perfection in the making, he thought acidly.

Lorenzo had caught her hands in his, the expression on his face one of earnest concentration. Was he about to propose? Wolfe didn’t wait to find out.

‘Nice night for a stroll, ma’am.’

Ava stiffened at the sound of Wolfe’s voice behind her and tugged her hands out of Lorenzo’s. She knew Wolfe was reprimanding her for going against his orders, but she didn’t care.

Since he’d walked out of her hotel room she’d been more determined than ever to find Lorenzo attractive. She didn’t want Wolfe to be the only man who could make her melt with mindless passion, because she knew he was determined to stay unattached for ever and she needed the opposite. She wanted the opposite! And wanting something more with him was just asking for heartache. Especially when the look on his face as he’d stormed out of her hotel room had left her in no doubt as to how appalled he was by the attraction that still simmered between them.

He moved now, blocking her way, his legs set wide apart, his hands clasped behind his back. He was so intensely male he took her breath away and, try as she had all night, she couldn’t forget the way it felt to be pressed up against all that hard muscle.

Previously she would have said she wasn’t a woman who could get turned on by a powerful man. But of course previously she hadn’t met Wolfe. Hadn’t felt this explosion of chemistry that made her tingle and burn. Hadn’t felt such a strong need to be with someone not just sexually but…always.

She let out a silent, shaky breath she hoped he wouldn’t notice and stared him down.

‘Prince Lorenzo and I would like some privacy, Wolfe.’

‘I need to talk to you.’

Ava shook her head. Talking was a bad idea. Forgetting about what had happened in her hotel room was what was required. ‘Not now.’

Wolfe cut his eyes to Lorenzo and she knew he was on the verge of ordering him to leave. Only Wolfe would consider doing that with a man who was second in line to the throne.

‘Wolfe, please.’ She hated the way she sounded as if she was begging but she was. She couldn’t do this any more. First thing tomorrow morning she was going to contact her father and tell him to organise another bodyguard. Wolfe could still head up the case if he liked, but she knew there was absolutely no way she could feel anything more than friendship for any man she met while Wolfe was by her side. Even when he wasn’t with her she thought of him, ached for him. She was starting to fear that no one would measure up to him. Ever.

His jaw clenched, as it always did when he was annoyed with her, and if possible his expression grew even more remote.

God, he was impossible! That kiss back in her hotel room…Her lips parted…

Don’t think about it, she ordered herself.

Not easy when he blocked her path, giving her no choice but to either wait for him to step aside or turn around with her tail tucked between her legs and retreat back inside as he wanted her to do.

Ava knew which option she wasn’t going to take.

Stepping closer to him was a mistake, though, as her senses became immediately overloaded with the faint trace of musk and man—a combination that instantly flooded her body with heat and need.

She shivered and Lorenzo placed his hand on her shoulder. Straight away her undisciplined mind compared its size and texture to Wolfe’s. It felt cool, where Wolfe’s always felt so warm it bordered on hot, and it didn’t make her want to wind herself around him until she didn’t know where she ended and he began.

‘Are you cold, piccolina?’

For a minute Ava thought Wolfe might do Lorenzo damage, and she quickly smiled her reassurance at Lorenzo before throwing Wolfe a baleful stare. ‘We can talk later. Right now I need you to move out of my way.’

In more ways than one, her mind quipped unhelpfully.

Ava waited, remembering the time he had threatened to toss her onto his horse. Back then she hadn’t believed he’d really do it. Now she knew better. Wolfe always got the job done, no matter what.

He glanced at his watch and then stepped aside, but it didn’t feel as if she had won a major victory.

In a fit of frustration she tightened her hold on Lorenzo’s arm in an attempt to disconnect her senses from Wolfe.

Oh, who was she kidding? She’d done it to send a message to Wolfe that his rejection of her hadn’t affected her in the slightest. That she didn’t need him. But silently she accepted that if Lucy hadn’t interrupted them they’d have made love again. And she couldn’t dislodge the sensation that it just felt so right to be in Wolfe’s arms.

‘Ava?’

‘I’m sorry, Lorenzo. I was…you were telling me about how we could integrate the telecommunications networks between Anders and Triole?’

Ava let him fill her head with possibilities and murmured appropriately, but her heart wasn’t in it and, feeling Wolfe’s steely silence behind her, she experienced an overwhelming need to escape both men and take stock. And she would have done exactly that if Wolfe hadn’t cleared his throat and stepped forwards again.

‘Ma’am.’ His voice was dark and official. ‘We need to have that talk now.’

Ava glanced from Wolfe to the burly man in an expensive suit and with a grim expression standing beside him. Did he have news about her situation?

Excusing herself from Lorenzo, Ava waited for Wolfe to speak.

‘Ma’am, this is Dan Rogers. He’s a security specialist who has worked for me for a number of years. He’ll be taking over your security detail from now on.’

It took a minute for Wolfe’s words to sink in, and when they did Ava’s stomach bottomed out. ‘You’re quitting?’ She couldn’t believe it. He’d told her he would never quit, and she realised with a start that she’d come to rely on that.

‘Not quitting. I’m rearranging the team to better utilise our skill-set.’

Ava heard what he said but she didn’t believe it. This wasn’t about skill-sets. This was about that kiss in her hotel room.

With her thoughts and feelings swirling around inside her like leaves in a whirly wind, she said the first thing that came to mind. ‘My father won’t like it.’

Wolfe’s jaw clenched and released. ‘I’ll deal with your father.’

Before she could think of anything else except the sick feeling growing in the pit of her stomach he turned to the other man.

‘Take care of her. Once she’s secure for the night call me and I’ll come and give you a complete brief.’

The man nodded.

Wolfe nodded and then turned his eyes briefly to hers. ‘Goodbye…ma’am.’

Ava closed her eyes and leant her head back against the butter-soft leather seats inside her limousine. She was alone in the car, having forbidden her new bodyguard from riding with her. He hadn’t liked it, but she’d given him the super-special superior look that had never worked on Wolfe and he’d acquiesced.

Now she felt horribly alone and hankered for something familiar. Something to anchor her in a world that kept moving and changing at a pace she was struggling to keep up with. She’d had so many decisions to make lately she was completely exhausted. No wonder she felt so out of sorts. Life-changes usually happened one at a time and with some sense of order. Didn’t they? At least that had been her experience to date. But these past few weeks nothing had been as it should. Least of all her.

In a split-second decision she knew Wolfe would call a ‘spontaneous reaction’ Ava instructed the driver to take her to her gallery, and immediately felt better.

The restless energy flowing through her was somewhat appeased at the thought of seeing Monique’s new works. They’d been installed two weeks ago, and viewing them on her smartphone wasn’t the same as standing back and inspecting them in person.

She smiled as her change in plans was relayed to the other two cars. No doubt Wolfe would have a kitten…but he had chosen to abandon his post and there was nothing he could do about it. She imagined the conversation they might have if he were here. Was it wrong to enjoy their mental tussles with each other so much?

When the car stopped Ava didn’t wait for her chauffeur to open her door but did it herself, breathing in the sweet damp air of Place des Vosges.

Her new bodyguard stopped beside her. ‘Ma’am, I’d like you to wait a few minutes before heading inside.’

Ava considered that briefly and then realised why. ‘Is Wolfe on his way?’

‘Yes, ma’am.’

Ava cursed. ‘I thought you were in charge now?’

‘I am. However—’

‘Never mind. And, no, I won’t wait for your boss to join us.’

Pivoting on her heel, she set off across the square to the row of shops she knew like the back of her hand. Her footsteps echoed in the quiet night that was only broken by the low hum of fast-moving cars on the main road and the squeak and clunk of a garbage truck as it rattled along the cobbled streets.

Dan reached the solid metal door to her building before her and held his hand out for the key. ‘I’ll do that, ma’am.’

A car door slammed somewhere close behind her but she ignored it.

‘I can do it.’ It might be the last time she ever did, and she wanted to take in every moment.

‘Ava!’

Wolfe’s hard, angry voice made her fingers fumble the key, and that made her mad. He wasn’t going to ruin this for her by muscling his way in. She wouldn’t let him.

Of course her stupid key chose that moment to become stuck and, frustrated, she twisted it in the opposite direction. Wolfe’s harsh, ‘Get back!’ confused her, and then a strong arm wrapped around her middle and yanked her sideways seconds before a deafening bang exploded in her ear.

CHAPTER NINE

SHE SCREAMED AND then lost her breath as she felt as if a giant boulder had fallen on top of her.

‘Secure…the…area.’

Wolfe’s deep voice, laden with pain, instructed the men running towards them. Ava coughed as she tried to breathe the filthy air around them, but her lungs were constricted. Feeling winded, she tried to twist onto her back and realised that it was Wolfe who was smothering her with his body.

When he shifted she dragged in a bucketload of acrid-smelling air. ‘What…?’

‘Ava. Don’t move.’ Deft hands ran over her body with mechanical efficiency, and when he was satisfied she wasn’t seriously injured he hovered over her, his movements somehow lacking their usual fluid grace.

Hearing a ringing sound in her ears, she peered around to see that the front of her building was completely blown apart. The fire door she had installed as a precaution lay crumpled as if a giant fist had tried to punch holes in it.

Bewildered by the chaos and devastation around her, and only peripherally aware that Wolfe’s men surrounded them, Ava glanced at Wolfe. ‘Mon Dieu, you are hurt.’

Ignoring The pain in her hands and hip where she had hit the pavement, she reached out to the jagged tear down the sleeve of his jacket. The white shirt beneath was already turning crimson under the glow of the street lamp that remained intact like a silent sentinel above them.

‘Get her…into the car,’ Wolfe rasped, shrugging out of his torn jacket.

‘No.’ Ava tried to reach for him, her only thought to help him, but he slashed his hand in the air.

‘Now.’

His voice brooked no argument and before she could do anything his men had gripped her arms and steered her back towards the limousine. She could hear Wolfe ruthlessly issuing orders and the distant wail of a police siren. Concerned voices filtered through the dust and smoke and then faded away as Wolfe’s men held back any curious onlookers drawn by the explosion.

Within minutes of the police arriving Wolfe was beside her in the car, wearing a black leather jacket; nothing about his appearance suggested that he’d just thrown himself on top of her as a bomb had blasted glass, bricks and plaster all over him.

He seemed calm and eerily controlled.

By contrast Ava couldn’t stop trembling. She was to blame for what had happened. Wolfe had told her not to change her itinerary and she hadn’t listened. She had wanted—what? The comfort of the familiar? To get back at Wolfe for leaving her? To make him come after her?

She let out a shaky breath. Right now all she knew was that she had put those assigned to take care of her in danger and she felt awful.

On top of all that the threat to her life was obviously real! Somehow she had held on to the notion that Wolfe was wrong. But it wasn’t he who had been wrong, it was her.

‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered helplessly. ‘I feel terrible.’

‘It’s not your fault.’ His voice was clipped, withdrawn. It made her feel worse because she could tell he was blaming himself.

Tears welled behind her eyes but she told herself not to get emotional. That now was not the time. But emotion was stronger than logic even on a good day. ‘That is nonsense. I should have—’

‘No! I should have.’ His eyes met hers and he stopped. ‘Where are you hurt?’

‘I’m okay.’

‘Ava.’ The way he said her name was a warning that he was going to go completely macho if she didn’t cooperate, but all she could think about was how much she loved the way it sounded on his lips.

‘My wrist.’ And her hip. And she could really use a glass of water.

As if she’d spoken out loud he retrieved a bottle from the mini-bar and untwisted the top.

‘Merci.’

After she’d finished he took the bottle. ‘Give me a look at your hands.’

Shaking, Ava held them out and he gently felt along her wristbones. She winced as he pressed on her tender palm, but he continued his inspection undeterred.

‘I don’t think bones are broken, but your palms are badly scraped.’

‘They’ll heal,’ she dismissed, catching his brooding frown.

‘Thankfully.’

His phone rang before she could ask what would happen next and he released her hand to answer it.

She closed her eyes as the night-dark city whisked by. Wolfe didn’t try to touch her or talk to her again but she wanted him to. She felt chilled, as if she’d never be warm again. And for once she didn’t argue when he took complete control of the situation. Right now it was easier to sit back and let him do what he did best.

She stole a glance at his austere profile. His jaw was packed with tension, his expression tough. He would do anything to keep her safe because he had to, and all she wanted was for him to do it because he wanted to.

With a start she realised just how much she trusted him to take care of her. How much she trusted him to have her best interests at heart.

‘Please don’t be angry at Dan,’ she said, suddenly realising that she might have put the other man’s job at risk. ‘He tried to stop me.’

‘I’m not angry at Dan,’ he said flatly.

No. He was angry with her. With himself, perhaps.

‘You won’t fire him?’

‘Your concern for his future is a little misplaced. Your behaviour tonight could have got him killed. It could have got you—Hell! What were you thinking?’

Although his words were angry his tone sounded more…devastated. And that sent her own sense of guilt higher.

‘I wanted…something familiar. Closure.’

‘Closure?’

‘I felt restless after you left and I knew I wouldn’t sleep. It seemed like a good idea.’

He shook his head. ‘I should have told Dan to physically waylay you.’

‘Why didn’t you?’

His gaze was intense when it connected with hers. ‘I didn’t want him touching you.’

Ava swallowed at the raw admission.

‘Just another mistake on my part.’ He blew out a breath and turned away from her, his hands knotted into fists on his thighs.

‘Do you think any of Monique’s paintings survived?’

He looked at her as if she’d grown another head, but then his expression softened. ‘Unlikely. Your fire door sent most of the explosion inward instead of outward. It tells me that whoever set it was more rank amateur than stalwart professional.’

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