“Oh, I am—King Faruq charged me with her protection, and I don’t appreciate anyone making her a target of the prince’s anger.”
Because of the prince’s close proximity, she felt him tense. And that made her tense. She looked out the right passenger window. The vehicle lurched forward, giving her time to glower at Apollo for getting into a testosterone war with the prince. “Please, stop.”
His expression went tight as those blue eyes considered her, looking both concerned and wounded.
She knew—he was only trying to defend her. Protect her. But she had been protecting herself a lot longer and knew how to navigate tricky situations like this.
But she wanted Apollo to know she appreciated his efforts on her behalf, so she gave him a soft nudge with her shoulder and stayed there. Not because of attraction—liar—but to put distance between herself and Rayan. That seemed to assuage Apollo’s wounded ego, because he gave a clipped nod.
A while later, the vehicles jounced over the dirt road that led to the tent camp, where large canvas structures huddled amid trees. When they pulled to a stop, Apollo hopped out first and Leighton all but threw herself out his door. She stumbled and he steadied her.
“I got you.”
Crazy thing of it was… “I know.”
His blue eyes found hers, and a smile snuck into his handsome face.
“What do you think”—a vise clamped around her wrist—“you’re doing?”
Leighton drew up sharp at Prince Rayan’s tight grip and pull. “What?—”
“Come.” Rayan cocked his head toward an enormous brown tent. “A light lunch first.”
“I—”
“Hey, careful,” Apollo objected. “You’re hurting her.”
The prince’s gaze darkened. “I do not?—”
“Rayan!” Maaz barked, darkness filling the scowl he aimed at his cousin. “Come here.”
Though Rayan hesitated, clearly did not want to yield. “I will return,” he finally said and released her, giving Owen a stiff glower.
“Hey,” Apollo said quietly, slipping closer. “Let’s get to our tent.”
He guided her past four tents before stepping up onto the porch-like area of a fifth and flinging aside a flap to a much smaller one. Small being relative. This was more of what she’d expected for a safari—rustic, roughing it. Well, after a fashion. These were not the two-person pup tents from her high school camping days.
Leighton hurried in, escaping the prying eyes of the royals. It was a silly, flimsy belief that being in here made her safe. But she’d take it. She let out a sigh. “I could not believe he yanked my wrist,” she said quietly.
“I wanted to punch his skull through his gray matter when I saw that.”
Leighton started, looking at him. “Then for the moment, I am grateful for Maaz’s dislike of me.”
“Come again?”
“If his anger had not been aroused at seeing Rayan take me in hand, you would have punched him and they would have killed you.”
“And you wouldn’t want that…?”
She heard the hope in his words and eyed him again. Felt the vibration of that certain something between them. “Well, then who would protect me?” She deliberately turned her attention to the room for a distraction.
The mosquito-netting walls did not offer much to hide behind or afford much privacy. They did, however, have privacy flaps along the side “walls” that had been rolled up and secured above the nets. To her surprise, despite the tented walls and ceiling, the floors were wood. Solid. That’s where the rustic-rather-than-rough started. First with a leather chair and ottoman that hugged the corner. Electricity had been strung to the small patio and a fixture hung in the center of the tent.
She ventured beyond an inner tent wall where curtains were open and secured to the sides. Through there waited a bed—again, a single king with more mosquito netting covering it. It almost seemed pretty, romantic.
Not how she should be thinking. “They keep putting us in one-bed rooms, yet they haven’t challenged us…”
“It’ll come,” Apollo promised. “Maaz is meticulous and patient. Not a good combo in a guy like that.”
