Seducing the Princess (Shillings Agency 3)
It wasn’t official yet, but once they met, and if she agreed to do her duty…it would be. She was terrified, and sick to her stomach, just thinking about mar
rying a man she hadn’t even met yet, let alone fallen for. But it was her duty as her parents’ sole heir. She needed to marry. Produce little princesses and princes. Be the good girl her parents raised her to be.
Even if she didn’t want to be.
“Oh.” She forced her tone to remain calm. “She went upstairs to the bar, I think.”
“Thanks,” the man said, leading her toward the stairs. “Let’s go get her.”
She yanked free, catching him off guard. “You go on. I’ll stay down here, so my boyfriend can find me.”
“I can’t leave you alone,” he said.
“I’ll be fine.”
He sighed. “Please, I—”
She tried to walk past him, but he stepped left at the same time. They collided, and his arms closed around her much like the other man’s had. Only instead of feeling scared in Gordon’s embrace, she felt…turned on, to be honest. It was a sensation she’d grown quite accustomed to not feeling anymore. But now, it was as if she’d been starving for this feeling for years, and only he could make it go away.
And he might be trying to kidnap her.
Go figure.
Her stomach twisted, and she rested her hands on his hard chest. Holy mother of the American royalty. The man was as hard as a rock. His hands slipped down her back and rested dangerously low at the curve of her hips. The innocent touch made her stomach tighten in knots, twisting and turning and roiling. His fingers flexed, almost as if he felt the same thing as her.
“Are you all right?” His voice was deeper than before. Raspy, too, as if he’d swallowed something sharp. He stepped closer, his chest brushing against hers. Her nipples hardened, seeming to beg for his touch already. “I didn’t mean to bump into you.”
“Yes, I’m fine,” she said, not wiggling to get free. Not this time. Heck, he felt…good. Real good. Too good. She curled her fingers over the fabric of his shirt. “Thank you, again.”
His hand slipped a little lower, making a shot of lust bolt through her veins, but he let go of her after a slight hesitation. She fought back a disappointed sigh. Wait. Disappointed? The guy was a stalker. She shouldn’t be upset he didn’t grope her.
His thumb skimmed over her knuckles in a soft caress. “Stay with me. I’m not going to hurt you. Tell me the truth…do you really have a big boyfriend waiting for you?”
“You first.” She steadied her nerves. “Tell me who she really is. I can tell she’s not your sister. She’s from another country.”
“That doesn’t mean I’m not her brother.”
“You’re not. She doesn’t have a brother,” Isabelle said, her heart racing so fast it hurt. “She told me she was an only child.”
“Shit.” His fingers tightened on her. “Fine. You got me. I’m a guard, and I have to find Isabelle. I can’t tell you who she is, so don’t ask. She’s my charge, not my sister, and the idiotic woman wandered off on me. If I don’t find her, I’m in deep shit. Now will you come with me?”
She stiffened. Idiotic woman? How dare he?
He had no right to talk about her like that. None at all.
And even worse than his impetuousness was the fact that he was her guard. This wasn’t a random man she’d never see again. This was a man she’d be forced to be around for days on end, in close quarters. And she’d been flirting with him. Twice. Gah!
Carefully, she asked, “Are you with the Shillings Agency?”
“Yeah.” He froze. “Wait. How did you know that?”
So he was her guard? Fabulous. Just fabulous. “Because I’m—”
The lights flickered and came back to life with a big pop. She blinked against the sudden brightness, squinting through the blinding pain as her eyes adjusted. Once she could make out more than the dots swimming before her eyes, she stared straight ahead at her protector.
Or his chest, so to speak.
He was a lot taller than she’d expected. He’d seemed tall in the shop, but he’d been sitting the whole time. Now, standing at his full height, he was well over six foot. She tightened her hands on his suit-clad biceps. His really big biceps.