She thought she did. At least a little. But they’d had such little time together, what did she really know of him? Except for how hot he was and how good he’d felt inside her.
‘But you’re doing this for money, aren’t you? Returning me to Rubanestein for money?’
He slow blinked. ‘Yes, I get paid for returning you. But that’s not my motivation.’
She considered that for a moment. ‘Oh, so you’re just the good guy. The saviour. Doing good for good’s sake. How noble of you.’
He sighed. ‘You’re angry with me. Because I’m bringing you home, or for some other reason?’
‘You made love to me,’ she said.
‘I did,’ he admitted. ‘And I told you it was a mistake. I told you I was sorry about that.’
Her lips pursed. ‘But I’m not sorry. I’ll never be sorry for that.’
She turned away before he could see the truth in her words, before he could witness the single tear that escaped from each eye. She’d treasure the memory of that night forever, the memory of feeling wanted. Even loved. The way she’d always wanted to be loved.
By a man she’d set out to seduce to make him protect her.
A man who’d turned into someone she believed she could love, and yet a man who’d betrayed her. She wanted to hate him for delivering her back to her brother’s clutches.
She wanted to hate him.
But all she felt was sorrow.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
THE JET WASon final approach to Rubanestein’s one and only international airport when Theo’s phone buzzed. He found the message as their plane taxied to the private aviation area. It was a relief to have a diversion from the Princess’s latest outburst. ‘There’s a banquet at the palace tonight and I’ve been invited,’ Theo told the Princess. ‘Apparently the Prince is celebrating your return. It seems you’ve been missed.’
‘Lovely,’ she said, her expression deadpan. ‘Just what I wanted, to have to endure another few hours in your presence.’
Theo was equally unimpressed. He’d expected to bring the Princess to the palace, collect a cheque, turn around and fly home. But given the pilots and crew had earned a break after their arrival, Theo would be going nowhere. Apparently, the Prince wanted to thank him personally. It was a polite gesture. Very civilised.
What Theo wasn’t surprised about was the Princess’s response. He’d expected her to be dismissive. She’d become more and more sullen the closer they got to Rubanestein. Because of course, she hadn’t got her way. She’d been delivered back to Rubanestein, to her own country. To where her duty lay. But most of all, out of harm’s way. What was her problem? She’d had her flings. She’d had her freedom flight. Whatever grievances she had with her younger brother, why couldn’t she accept that her life should be one of duty in the country of her birth?
And he didn’t feel guilty in the least, because she’d deceived him. If she had told him the truth from the start that she had been a virgin, he would never have touched her. She knew that. Instead, she’d flaunted tales of her times with Luke and Mateo and hinted about others and made him believe that her innocence was no longer an issue.
She’d tricked him, tricked him into betraying his trust. Tricked him into betraying his duty of protection for her.
So he couldn’t blame her entirely for that, because she’d always been forbidden to him, virgin or no. He never should have touched her. And not just because she’d been forbidden. But damn, now he didn’t think he’d be able to get the taste and feel of her out of his head.
How did one erase one of the most sublime moments of your life? One of the most life-changing? She’d moved like liquid silk in his arms, so responsive to his every touch, so reactive to his seeking mouth and tongue.
Liquid silk.
Hot and fluid. She’d moved like a ballerina in the bed. Graceful and lithe, as she’d wrapped him in her limbs and welcomed him into her body.
And it had been wondrous. Magical. A revelation. Until he’d felt that unexpected resistance.
But by then it was too late and his next lunge swept away any and all hint of resistance. Leading up to that, he’d heard her whimpers of need, he’d heard her jagged breathing, sounds that had fed into his own building need, but when he’d heard her cry out as he’d lunged into her, he’d realised what he’d done.
Fool.
He was supposed to be a rescuer. A protector. A bodyguard.
If there was a bodyguard how-to book, Rule Number One would have been, don’t fall for your rescue. Don’t engage in some kind of reverse Stockholm Syndrome, where you fell for the person that you were rescuing, no matter how attractive and sexually alluring and infuriating they were.
He’d broken the first rule in the book.
