“Do too.”
“Do not.”
Vikki laughs, eyes widening. “You do. Rowan Reed!”
“I have work to do.”
“You have a brand-new office in the Stirling Castle to do it.”
“Well, I guess I’ll have to settle for the archives until I get there.”
Vikki stands up, folding the blanket and setting it on the arm of the sofa. She shakes her head, grinning at me. “You two might have just found the perfect match for each other. Both of you grumpy about it. Both of you in denial. It’s perfect.”
“Goodbye, Vikki,” I say, heading for the door to the archives. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Her giggle follows me through the doorway as she calls out a goodbye to me. I flop down on the desk chair in the archives and listen to her walk out of the library before dropping my head in my hands.
Groaning, I try to shake the thought away.
The Prince does not like me. Not like that. Sure, we slept together, and he’s a bit more of a gentleman than I expected.
That’s it.
Anything more is just too complicated. Too messy.
Too…real.
18
Wolfe
When Rowan and I were at the visitor’s cottage, I felt a closeness I haven’t felt in a long time. A sense of companionship, like there’s someone else in the world who understands pain the way I do. She’s resigned herself to loneliness, just as I have.
It’s been four long years of trudging through life with weights around my ankles. Four years of wishing it had been my heart that stopped, not Abby’s. Four years of wondering what the point of it all is without Abby by my side.
But now… I shake my head and stare at the ceiling above my bed. Rowan doesn’t want me that way. I’m not so dense that I can’t read body language. I might not regret our time together, but she does.
Is it because the condom broke? She doesn’t want kids?
Or is it simply because she slept with me?
It’s hard not to think about the taste of her lips, and the way her skin felt against mine. It’s hard not to wonder if she’d ever give herself to me fully. Let go of the inhibitions and walls that she’s built up and let me have her. Completely.
For the first time in four years, my blood feels warm and alive and thick in my veins.
It feels good to do something for her. To provide a place for her to live and work. I want to make her happy.
So…I’m screwed, basically.
Chief, sensing my unease, jumps up on the bed beside me. He lets out a low rumble and nuzzles in beside me, letting me bury my hand in his fur and fall asleep beside him.
I wake up to a bright day with clear blue skies. Rowan will be leaving soon.
I can’t let that happen.
Jumping out of bed, I shower quickly, throw my things in a bag, and call for Eyvar. The big, pale-eyed man arrives within minutes.
“I’m going back to Stirling,” I say, slipping my laptop into its bag.
“Sir?”
“Stirling,” I repeat, glancing at Eyvar. “The capital.”
“I know what Stirling is, Your Highness, but what I’m wondering is why. The anniversary hasn’t happened yet. The memorial…” He trails off, but we both know what he’s going to say.
I’ve been away just over two weeks. The memorial is tomorrow. If I leave today, I’ll arrive in the capital just in time for the anniversary of Abby’s death. I’ll be bombarded with images and memories of the worst day of my life.
Right now, it doesn’t seem so daunting. Maybe I have to be there this year. Maybe my grief is ebbing away, and it’s time to move forward.
When I don’t answer, Eyvar grunts and backs out of the room. I gather a few things, leaving the staff to pack up the rest. I don’t need much, anyway. I have clothes and toiletries at every royal household in the kingdom. All I need are my personal things.
When I stride down to the dining room to grab some coffee and breakfast, I’m surprised to see Rowan there, too. She straightens up in her chair, swallowing a bite of food.
“Your Highness.”
“We talked about that title,” I growl, sitting down at the head of the table and nodding to the staff as they pour my coffee.
“I’d rather keep things professional,” Rowan replies, eyeing me from across the room.
My lips twitch. I would very much rather keep things unprofessional, but I like the fight in her. Last night, the distance between us made me ache. I wanted to wrap my arms around her and take her, right there in the library.
Now, though, I feel like a weight has been lifted off my shoulders. I’m not carrying around four years of grief. I’m not running away from difficult emotions.
I’m moving on.
Rowan clears her throat. “I wanted to thank you for organizing a house and office for me. You didn’t have to do that.”
“I know I didn’t,” I reply. A waiter places a plate of steaming scrambled eggs and perfectly golden toast on the table. A butter dish is placed down in front of me, the butter soft, but not melted. Perfect. Why does everything seem to taste better today?
“I appreciate it, is what I’m saying.”
“I was impressed with the effort you put into your research while you were here. I think you earned a place to work. Plus, this way I’ll be able to keep an eye on you.” I flick my gaze to Rowan, whose face flushes all over.
She keeps her eyes on her plate. “I thought you were staying here for a few weeks,” she says casually. Maybe too casually.
“I’ve changed my mind. I’m heading to Stirling with you.”
That earns me a glance. Her eyes are wide as they stare at me across the table, her perfect, plump lips dropping open.
“But what about…” she trails off, just as Eyvar had.
How long have I let my memories hold me back? How much did I wear my grief like a badge of honor? Even a woman who’s known me mere weeks can tell that my decision to go to the capital is unusual.
I dab the corners of my lips with a thick cloth napkin, meeting Rowan’s eye. “I think it might be time for me to face my fears head-on, don’t you?”
She pauses, reaching for her coffee cup. “Whatever you think is best, Your Highness.”
“That doesn’t sound like you, Rowan.”
Her eyes flick up to mine when I say her name. Her throat clenches and releases as she swallows, spots of red flushing over her cheeks. “How do you know what I’m like?”
I grin in response, which earns me a huff from Rowan. It feels like a weight has been lifted from my shoulders. I can breathe fully for the first time in years.
I’m going to Stirling. I’m not afraid of the memorial. I’m not afraid of the pictures and videos and reminders of my fiancée’s death. I can’t run away from it all anymore.
Even if Rowan doesn’t realize it yet, having her near makes me feel stronger. Being close to her gives me energy. It gives me life. It makes me feel like there’s hope for a brighter future, and like I don’t need to run away from the past.
But as she finishes her meal and nods to a waiter as he takes her plate away, I see the tension in her shoulders. She steals a glance my way, and I’m not sure if she feels the same way I do.
After bringing Chief back to the kennels and giving him one last pat on the head, I find Rowan in one of the sitting rooms, ready to go. We make our way to the garages just as the last of Rowan’s bags are loaded into the trunk. She slips into the back seat, and I circle around to the other side. When I slide into the seat beside her, I can feel the distance between us like a chasm.
We set off in silence, rolling through the countryside. Finally, when we pass the train station, Rowan lets out a long sigh. I reach over and place my hand over hers, squeezing gently.
“I was so scared when I first arrived,” Rowan says quietly. She laughs, shaking her head. “It’s embarrassing to think about it now.”
“Don’t be embarrassed,” I answer, my voice low.
&n
bsp; “Thank you for stopping. For saving me,” she says quietly. When she flicks her eyes toward me, the look on her face makes my blood pump thick and hot in my veins. She gulps, turning her hand over so she can intertwine her fingers in mine.
This feels right. It feels good. Being here, beside Rowan, heading back to the capital that I call home—it feels like it’s exactly where I’m supposed to be.
Rowan glances at me, letting out a soft sigh. She leans back in her seat, keeping her hand curled around mine, and stares out the window at the passing snow-covered landscape. For once, it feels like she belongs here.
With me.
19
Rowan
We drive to a private airfield a short distance away from the train station where I arrived. The Prince slips his hand out of mine when the car stops, and I immediately miss his closeness. My fingers tingle where they touched his skin, and I remember what it felt like to be in his arms.
It felt good. And right. And real. As much as I try to deny it, I love having him beside me.
The Prince puts his hand on my lower back as we walk toward a private jet, flight attendants waiting at the bottom and top of the stairs to help us on board. The Prince’s huge, pale-eyed bodyguard follows us, carrying my bags toward the plane.
When we get inside, my breath catches. I’ve never been in a private jet before—obviously.
It’s massive. We’re greeted with a fully stocked bar and kitchen. Beyond, two huge chairs are set up on one side, with a big L-shaped couch on the other. And farther still, beyond a small partition, a king-sized bed takes up the far end of the cabin.
My heart thumps at the sight of the bed. I know the flight to Stirling is only about an hour, but the thought of sleeping with the Prince is still fresh in my mind.
I sit down on one of the individual seats. I’m given a glass of champagne and a selection of hors d’oeuvres. Nuts, lox, and even a decadent chocolate truffle.
The Prince watches me from the long sofa, a grin teasing at his lips.
“What?” I ask, glaring.
“You look completely out of your element.”
“Can you blame me?”
“Just enjoy it, Rowan.”
Ugh, I love the way he says my name. I never want him to stop. I want to hear it whispered, gruff and low in my ear. I want to hear him say it softly as he wraps his arms around me. I want to hear him grunt it as he spills his orgasm inside me.
No. Stop.
I can’t think that way. That was a one-time thing. It’s not going to happen again.
I’m here for work. That’s all.
We settle in for take-off. Eyvar disappears into a door near the front of the plane, and I realize there’s a whole other, smaller, self-contained apartment up there. The flight attendants serve us more drinks—I opt for water, since I don’t trust myself with alcohol around the Prince anymore. The staff then disappears behind a door on the other side of the kitchen.
“Have you made any progress on the design?” he asks after takeoff.
Good. Work—that’s a safe topic.
I take a sip of water before answering. “I have. I think you’ll like the new iteration. Or at least, I hope so.” I smile, watching his eyes flick down to my lips.
Why does that make heat curl around my abdomen? Why do I never want him to stop looking at me like that?
My heart thumps, and I clear my throat. “This plane is incredible. It’s nicer than my place in Farcliff.”
The Prince makes a soft noise in response, his eyes still tracing the lines of my lips. His gaze runs down the length of my body, sending fire spilling through my veins.
Yes, I like that. I like when he looks at me. When we’re alone, with no one else to see us, I think I like it a bit too much. I turn to the window to watch the clouds rush by. It’s safer that way.
“Are you afraid of me?” he asks after a few minutes.
I frown, glancing at him. “No. Why?”
“You seem to want to stay as far away from me as possible.”
“Do you remember what happened last time I let myself get near you?”
His smile widens. “How could I forget?”
“This isn’t the same for me as it is for you, Your Highness,” I say, heart thumping uncomfortably. I straighten my shoulders, jutting my chin out at him.
He leans back on the sofa, stretching his legs. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, you’re a prince, right? Royalty? You can have whatever you want, whenever you want.” I wave a hand at the luxury around us. “Look at this plane. I arrived at the castle on the train, with no privacy and a seat half the size of this one.”
“I don’t understand what that has to do with us.”
“Of course you don’t.” I snort, shaking my head. “You don’t understand that for you, I’m just a bit of fun. I’m just a girl who walked into your life, who’s below your station, who has to do whatever you want me to do.”
“You don’t have to do anything I want.” His face hardens, jaw tensing.
I let out a sigh. “I don’t mean I was coerced. I’m just a girl who came to the castle. Just like a million others, probably. I mean nothing to you.”
“How would you know what you mean to me?” There’s an edge to his voice. An intensity to his gaze.
A lump forms in my throat, and I hesitate. Threading my fingers together, I squeeze my hands against each other. I take a deep breath. “You are in a position of power over me, Wolfe.”
He frowns. “Is this about the office? About the plane? I’m trying to help you.”
“It’s about the fact that I’ve worked my ass off to be a respected architect, and I don’t want you—or anyone else—to think that I’m here for other reasons.”
“You don’t think I respect you?”
Frustration bubbles inside me as I draw in a deep breath. How can I make him understand that my career means everything to me? It’s my lifeline. It’s the one thing that ensures I have to rely on no one, ever. Sleeping with him was a mistake. It was in direct conflict with my desire to be successful. It blurred the lines between us and confused me on the deepest level.
He still thinks this is a game, and he’ll toss me aside when it’s over.
But this job? This design?
It means everything to me. I left my boyfriend for this contract—not that the loss of that relationship really cut me deep, or anything, but I still gave it up. I gave up my social life to build up my business to what it is now. I put all my time and energy into my work. Everything I’ve done has been to ensure I can stand on my own two feet.
Getting involved with the Prince puts all of that into question.
“Rowan,” he says softly and damn it, my walls weaken. His gaze drills into mine, and I find myself standing up from my armchair and moving to sit next to him on the sofa when he pats the seat.
He reaches over to me, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. “I haven’t slept with anyone since Abby,” he says.
I lift my gaze to his, eyes wide. “What?”
“Why is that so surprising?” His lips tug at the corners.
I wave a hand in the general direction of his rock-hard, virile body. “I mean… You know.”
“There aren’t a million other women in my life. You’re not just one of many women on a conveyor belt in and out of my life.” He pauses, fingers drifting over my cheek. “I don’t know what you are. You’re special.”
“I’m here for work,” I say softly, but the conviction is gone from my voice. My eyes betray me, drifting down to his lips.
The Prince doesn’t hesitate. He leans toward me, pressing his lips to mine, and oh, my body gives in. I sigh into his kiss, wrapping my arms around him. I tangle my fingers into his hair and pull him close, moaning into his mouth.
It should be illegal for a kiss to feel this good. It shouldn’t be allowed for one man to have so much power and sex and masculinity imbued into every pore.
But damn, it feels good. His ki
ss tastes dangerous but so sweet. When he groans, it sends shivers rushing over my skin. He wraps his arms around me, pulling me over to straddle him on top of the couch. His hands run down my neck, over my chest, around my waist. Everywhere.
And I want it. I want his hands on my body, on every inch of me. I want to feel his bare skin against mine. His cock buried deep inside me. His lips between my legs. Everything. I want it all.
My hesitations and fears seem so silly when he’s tangling his fists into my hair and kissing me hard. Work doesn’t seem so important when his hips grind against mine, reminding me of everything I’ve missed while I’ve been convincing myself I don’t want him.
He pulls away from me, resting his forehead against mine. “I feel alive for the first time in years, Rowan,” he says softly. His voice gruff, as if he needs to push the words through his throat.
I let myself believe his words—that I’m special, and different, and I mean something to him. I let myself melt into his embrace and I let him kiss me senseless as my body heats up.
Maybe there’s more to life than work. I might have missed the point of all this when I’ve been so focused on providing for myself and making sure I don’t end up a burden to anyone else. Kissing the Prince feels better than work.
What if these feelings are real? What if this could work?
As my head spins, I pull away and stare in the Prince’s eyes. They’re soft. Warm. Loving. My chest constricts, and I find myself leaning my cheek against his chest.
He wraps his arms around me and lays a soft kiss on top of my head as we sit there in silence until the flight attendant reappears.
I pull away, cheeks burning, which makes Wolfe chuckle. His arm stretches out across the sofa behind me, and the flight attendant doesn’t even blink. We’re served snacks and refreshments, and I finally let myself enjoy the luxury of the flight.
20
Wolfe
When we land in Stirling, Rowan straightens her shoulders and schools her features. The intimacy we shared on the flight to the capital dissolves away, and her professional mask is back on.
Lone Prince: An Accidental Pregnancy Romance (Royally Unexpected Book 7) Page 12