Duty At What Cost?

‘Careful what you wish for, Princess. You just might get it.’ He straightened and inclined his head in her direction. ‘If you’ll excuse me?’ He mimicked the cool words she’d been about to serve him moments earlier before striding across the marble floor and into another room.

Ava let out a long pent-up breath. She should be glad he was gone. He was arrogant, obnoxious, and too cool for school—and yet he made her burn hotter than any man ever had before. It was a powerful aphrodisiac. All-consuming and tempting. And despite the fact that he had just warned her off some obtuse part of her still wanted to know what it would feel like to have those capable hands on her heated skin—her naked, heated skin.

‘Ladies and gentlemen...’

The MC interrupted Ava’s conflicting thoughts.

‘The bride is about to throw her bouquet before the couple departs for the evening.’

A triumphant squeal rent the air as the bouquet was caught by one of Anne’s American friends, followed by a stream of synchronised clapping as the bride and groom made their way upstairs. They would be spending the night at the château before leaving for their honeymoon after luncheon the following day.

Ava joined in the well-wishing but her chest felt tight. Anne and Gilles were so happy. So in love. An old fear that she would never get to experience that depth of emotion with someone special cut across the happiness she felt for them both.

Realising she must be more out of balance than she’d first thought, she decided to call it a night. Glancing around the room, she noted that Wolfe was nowhere to be seen and felt another stab of irritation at herself. She was torn between wanting him to want her and wanting him not to. It was as if she was somehow in thrall to him. As if her brain no longer functioned, or it functioned but was stuck in one groove, like the needle on an old-fashioned record player. The word sex was going round and round in her head like an endlessly exciting mantra.

Ava stared at her water glass and wondered if someone had drugged it. The last thing she wanted was sex with a man completely unsuitable for her hopes and dreams. Wasn’t it?

Annoyed, she pivoted on her heel—and gasped when she nearly ran smack into the man who had occupied her mind pretty much the entire day and night.

‘You’re leaving before our dance,’ he murmured silkily.

The balls of her feet hurt and she didn’t want to dance. ‘I did not think you played games.’ She could barely hear her own voice above the sound of her thundering heartbeat. Had he been toying with her to heighten her awareness of him? If so, it had worked. She had never been more aware of a man in her life.

She saw his nostrils flare at her confrontational tone and something primal unfurled low in her pelvis, because she knew that he did play games. And even though it went against all her principles part of her wanted to play—with him— tonight.

‘Maybe I want to feel you in my arms one more time.’

Heat rushed through her body as his husky words burned her up inside. How did any woman stop herself from drowning under such blazingly sexual intensity?

‘Do you?’

As if sensing her near capitulation, he gave her a lupine smile. ‘Yes.’ He set her drink aside and swept her into his arms.

Ava’s stomach flipped. She’d like to think that she’d let him walk her backwards onto the dance floor—although that would imply she still had some influence over her actions and she wasn’t sure that she did.

‘What about what I want?’ The question was meant to establish some sense of control on her part, but she suspected that he knew what he did to her and had seen right through it.

He brought the hand holding hers towards her face and rotated it so that his knuckles gently drifted across her cheekbone. ‘This is what you want, Princess.’

A cascade of sensations made her shiver and she told herself to tread carefully. Told herself that there was only one kind of man who parried around a woman all night and then approached her at the end. The kind her mother would have told her to steer well clear of. What it said about her wanting him regardless she didn’t want to think about.

He was so sure. So confident. She should shoot him down in flames. Using his own pistol to do it.

Instead she braced herself against his magnetic sensuality and told herself she would walk away at the end of the song.

‘One dance.’

CHAPTER THREE

DANCE? WOLFE DIDN’T want to dance with her. He wanted to possess her. And for a self-confessed non-game-player he had played a game of parry and retreat with her to rival all others.