ALEX
The trail slants upward, a lazy slope through the pines. Eva is a step ahead, striking in a tight denim skirt and tall boots, her loose hair catching the morning sun. I’m supposed to be looking at the view, but my eyes keep sliding back to her.
It’s only been forty-eight hours since she showed up at my door with her proposal. It feels like a different era.
I moved to Fort Vauclairt yesterday afternoon. Last night over dinner, Eva and I told Millie we were getting married.
She rolled her eyes so hard it’s a miracle they didn’t stick. “Betrothed? At your age? Eww. Gross.”
But even my untrained eye caught the smile hiding in her dimples.
I step forward and rest my hand on Eva’s lower back where her sweater is tucked into her skirt.
“Millie seemed fine with our plans, don’t you think?” I ask.
“More than fine. She’s happy.”
I let out a slow breath. “Good.”
She looks up at me. My hand slides to her hip. I’ve no intention of fucking her here, not with all the cameras and mics hidden around the area, but I can’t resist this small touch.
“That skirt messes with my head,” I whisper.
She looks at me and grins.
We start walking again. Soon, the hunting lodge appears through the trees. Instinctively, I release Eva’s hand. We stop talking. No one feels like sharing their private moments with a bunch of agents monitoring the feed at MESS.
Last I heard, they haven’t caught Kurt Ozzi’s mole yet.
Or maybe they have, but they aren’t telling us. We’re in “top secret” territory here. I do hope they’ve nailed the bastard. But, given what I know, the odds are slim. Whoever Ozzi planted in Mount Evor is smart, careful, and brilliant at avoiding detection. A real pro—too sharp to hang around a bugged cabin. Someone like that had sensors in place that warned them the instant Eva and I discovered Ozzi’s tunnel.
I tilt my head toward the derelict lodge. “Still makes your skin crawl, doesn’t it?”
“Every time.”
I check the time, mindful that the interview with the first estate manager candidate is at two. Much as I love roaming these woods with Eva, we have an estate and a duchy to get back on track.
“Time to head back?” she asks.
“Afraid so.”
We walk in companionable silence until the castle roofline comes into view. I offer her my hand, and we rush down the hill.
The firein the small salon is flickering low. I add a log. Returning to my swivel chair, I push the paperwork to one side of the desk and pick up my glass.
Across from me, Eva leans back in her padded chair, with her legs curled underneath her. “We made the right choice.”
“We did. Peter was the most qualified.”
Her smile is toothy. “And he’s the only one who didn’t try to flatter me into oblivion.”
I take a sip, watching her content face over the rim of my glass. “I think he’ll do well here.”
“I think so, too.”
Gazing out the window, she pinches the stem of her wineglass between two fingers and begins to absently stroke it. Up to the spherical bottom of the glass, then slowly down, up again, then down…
Mesmerized, and increasingly aroused, I follow the movement of her fingers.
