BA’SH
Ba’sh glanced down at the girl, a strange emotion swirling in his chest. It was the first time he’d laughed like that in a long time.
It felt good.
The girl looked frightened, but she was starting to smile.
What was she afraid of?
The circlet blocked his curiosity before he could satisfy it.
“I thought you were a gardener,” he told her, indicating the big pot she still embraced in her arms. “Because of the plant.”
And the clothes. But that might be rude to mention.
Dimples appeared on her cheeks and her dark eyes began to dance. She looked almost like a woodland elf from one of the stories his own nanny used to read him.
“I was too nervous to introduce myself,” she admitted. “I’m Yasmine Hall.”
His second instinct to read her in as many minutes had his fingers itching to rip off the circlet, but he resisted. He could still feel a wave of warm intentions from her that was enough for him to know no harm would come to the children in her care.
But he probably could have figured that out without his gift.
His eyes went back to her dimples. Her whole face was so delicate, but the dimples were like tiny magnets for his attention.
No. Just no.
Being the Ruler of Ulfgard meant there were certain expectations of him, or so his publicity chief had told him, with a look on his face like he was about to instruct Ba’sh on how to remove pet excrement from his shoes.
Because he was the Ruler, he was expected not to have too many dalliances. But because the job was stressful and many females would try to entice him, the publicity chief felt it would be best if Ba’sh married, as soon as possible.
But there were three rules for avoiding a PR nightmare:
He couldn’t get involved with a woman from off-world. Apparently, that would be considered an affront to the beautiful and diverse women of Ulfgard.
He shouldn’t date a woman who was substantially younger or older, though there were nearly no age-appropriate Ulfgardian women left.
And most importantly, under no circumstances could he get involved with the help.
Ba’sh had informed the chief that there was no way in hell he was marrying again. What little free time he would have already belonged to his children.
Besides, he had kept it in his pants this long. Why did he need a woman now all of a sudden?
But looking down at the delicious, dark-haired beauty beside him had his blood tingling in a way that he hadn’t felt in years…
No, Ba’sh, he told himself. Absolutely no way.
Being with this little Terran would mean breaking all three rules at once. And besides, he didn’t even know her. He was sure the feeling would pass.
“Let me show you to your rooms,” he offered, tearing his eyes from hers.
Though every instinct told him to offer to carry her things, he ignored his chivalry and let her take care of herself. He was the ruler of a planet, and she was his employee. There was an order to this, and the last thing he needed was to blur any lines.
They headed down the corridor again, passing the dining room on the left.
“It’s incredible,” the girl breathed, pausing to look.
He felt a tendril of pleasure unfurl in his chest. It was incredible. The architect had taken Ba’sh’s known interest in the ancient Terran style and brought echoes of it into every room.