Royal Escape: The Complete Series

by Peak, Renna

  “Well, I don’t, okay? It isn’t like I go off driving into the woods in New York City. It isn’t like if my car broke down at home, there wouldn’t be a thousand other people on the same block.”

  Her use of the word home in reference to the place she just ran from makes something in my chest twinge.

  I let out another long breath. “I might remind you, you’re no longer in New York City. And you might have thought about getting some provisions before you came trekking off into the wilderness.”

  “Yeah, yeah. Hindsight’s twenty-twenty and all that.” I see her roll her eyes, though there’s barely any light inside the car. She turns the ignition all the way off, making the headlamps die and pitching us into complete darkness. “We might as well save the battery. If we need it later.”

  “The heater won’t work without the engine on.” My jaw clenches. “And I expect it will get quite cold tonight.”

  “I guess you’re going to lecture me about not wearing a coat, right?”

  “Only if I lecture myself about the same.” I pull out my phone—I’ve been avoiding looking at it, not wanting to see if there are any messages from my family. But as I suspected, there is no service. And although it’s a welcome relief not to have to see any messages from my family, it leaves us little choice in a way to get back to the ranch tonight.

  Clara does the same, taking her phone out and checking it. She shakes her head and puts it back in her bag without a word—it’s obvious she doesn’t have service, either.

  We sit in silence for a few minutes before she speaks again. Being in the blackness of night seems to make it feel even colder than it probably is. I wrap my arms around myself, rubbing at my bare arms. It was warm enough when we left earlier tonight that short sleeves didn’t seem like a bad idea, but the spring nights here get quite chilly—and it cools very quickly as soon as the sun sets.

  “We could…” Her voice trails off as though she’s thought better of her idea.

  I say nothing. The only choice we’re going to have is to huddle together for the night and wait for morning to come, but I don’t want to be the one to suggest it. Not after what has already happened between us.

  “I mean… You know…”

  I sigh. “Clara, I cannot read your mind. If you have an idea, you should voice it.”

  “You know your real accent comes out when you’re upset, right?” I can almost hear her grinning. “And it’s as cute as ever.”

  “I hardly think a person’s voice can be ‘cute.’ Particularly mine.”

  “I was going to say that…you know…”

  “In fact, I do not. Which is what I’ve been telling you.” I let out a huff—if she won’t make the suggestion, I suppose I’m going to have to. “We have little choice but to huddle together for the night. If we don’t want to freeze to death, that is.”

  “I’d prefer we didn’t.”

  My head snaps to look at her, though I can only see her outline in the darkness. “Do you have a better idea, then?”

  “No, I meant I’d prefer it if we didn’t freeze to death. Which I do. Don’t.” I can hear the frustration building in her voice.

  Or perhaps it’s not so much frustration... My cock is almost instantly hard at the thought that she might be torn about wanting to be near me—even flustered by the idea. I take in a deep breath, shifting in my seat as I try to hide my arousal—not that she can see it.

  This is highly inappropriate. I could never take advantage of a woman in this situation. But would I really be taking advantage? She’s kissed me back each time our lips have met. She’s touched me, held me…done everything short of actually stating that she wants me.

  And that’s just it. Until she actually speaks the words, I will not be touching her.

  “So…maybe we should get in the back? I mean, we could lay the seats in the front down, but it wouldn’t be very comfortable for either of us. Not together in the same seat, anyway.”

  I blink in her direction a few times, saying nothing.

  “We should lay the back seat down. And…and…”

  “I’ll not take advantage of you. You have my word.” I almost add, not unless you want me to. But I stop myself.

  “Oh. I…I didn’t think you would.”

  I move to get out of the car, meaning to get into the back seat when I feel her hand on my arm. “We should get in the back. If we open the door, we’ll let the little bit of heat that’s already in here out.”

  “Right.” Why didn’t I consider that? I suppose I’m a bit flustered as well, and the thought of holding Clara in my arms for the night isn’t helping much with stopping that feeling.

  “Here, I’ll get back there. I think I remember where the knobby things are to pull on to lay the seat down.” Her body slides against my arm as she crawls into the back, quickly getting to work on getting the seat down. It’s only a moment later when she speaks again. “Okay. You can come back here, too.”

  I awkwardly try to get between the two front seats and pull myself into the back. My boot catches on the driver’s seat, sending a fresh bolt of pain up my leg.

  But I ignore it as I find my way next to Clara.

  She slips her hand into mine. “Are you ready?”

  “Mm.” I can’t seem to find any words. I’m ready to do so much more than hold her, and I have to continually remind myself how wrong it would be to do anything more.

  “Okay.” She pulls me down with her, and in a moment, we’re lying diagonally across the back of her car. She slips my arm around her back, nuzzling against my chest.

  My other arm instinctively wraps around her, pulling her closer to me. She’s so warm, so soft, and her body seems to fit perfectly against mine.

  It takes every bit of strength I have to keep my cock from hardening at the thought of what other parts of our bodies might fit perfectly together.

  Clara

  This feels good. Too good.

  After the promise I’ve made myself multiple times today, I should know better. But it’s nice to have his arms around me, nice to be pressed up against his warm, hard chest. Nice to forget about Adam and everything else for a while.

  Even if we are stranded in the middle of God-knows-where. With who knows how many bears around.

  I press my cheek against his shirt, burying my face in his chest. At least when I’m chastising myself for being an idiot I’m not worrying about how we’ll get out of this mess. Or if a bear can break through a car door.

  At least I know a bear would go for Nick first, I think. He has a lot more meat on his bones than I do. He’ll make a pretty good shield, if it comes to that.

  His hand splays against my back. “What are you giggling about?”

  “Nothing,” I murmur into his chest. “Just thinking about bears.”

  He pulls back slightly, and I can tell he’s trying to look down at my face. I keep my nose against his shirt, though, and try to stifle my next round of giggles.

  “I suppose I don’t understand what’s so funny about bears,” he grumbles after a moment, probably frustrated that he doesn’t get the joke.

  “Use your imagination,” I tell him. “Lots of things can be funny if you let them. Even when you’re stranded in the middle of nowhere.” I poke him in the belly, and he grunts. “When was the last time you laughed about anything, Nick?”

  “I fail to see the humor in our current circumstances,” he says. “There’s nothing wrong with that. In fact, I think it’s a perfectly sensible response.”

  “That’s not an answer. And I’m not just talking about our current circumstances. I’m talking about anything. What makes grumpy Nick Smith laugh?”

  “This is hardly the time for this conversation,” he replies. “We should be conserving our—”

  “This is exactly the time for this conversation. If we’re going to be stuck out here, we’ve got to keep up our morale.” I finally pull myself away from him, propping myself up on one elbow. In the little bit of moonlight seep
ing in through the car windows, I can just make out his face. He’s frowning, and the shadows make those furrows in his brow look even deeper.

  “Come on, Nick,” I tease. “There must be something that makes you laugh. Everyone has something.”

  “Why does it matter if I do or not?” he says.

  “Because how else do you survive in this crazy world?” I ask. “I don’t think it’s healthy to take life so seriously. Not all the time.” Especially not when it feels like your life is in pieces around you. “A little humor is necessary, sometimes. Just to get by.”

  I can tell I’ve said too much because he doesn’t try to argue with me. Instead, his eyes study me in the darkness. If I’m not careful, I’m going to get another lecture about being irresponsible. Made worse by the fact that I know I deserve it.

  But I don’t give him the chance. Instead, I lean toward him.

  “Everyone has something,” I tell him again. “And I’m going to find yours, Nick Smith.”

  He doesn’t have a fighting chance. Before he can react, I attack, my wiggling fingers diving into his armpits.

  Nick might not have a sense of humor, but apparently he is incredibly ticklish. He jerks the moment I touch him, and the more I tickle him, the more his body spasms. His jaw is clamped tight, and I can tell he’s fighting it, trying not to make a sound.

  Encouraged, I don’t let up on my attack one bit. I tickle him beneath the arms, then down his sides.

  “…Clara!” he gasps. “Stop…!” His jaw shuts firmly again, and I’d bet everything I own that he’s trying not to laugh.

  And I’m not going to let this opportunity pass me by.

  I keep tickling him, one hand moving back up to his armpit and the other across his belly. He tries to twist away from me, tries to curl up against my attack, but I don’t let him. I leap on him, pinning him down, trapping him against the seat. I’m not moving until he cracks.

  And finally, just when I’m starting to fear he’s going to give himself an aneurysm, he does. Laughter bursts out of his mouth, and once it starts, he can’t seem to stop it.

  I don’t let up. Even when he manages to say my name again through his laughter. Even when he grabs my wrists, trying to stop me. I keep tickling, and he loses all control.

  And just when I’m ready to declare victory, he suddenly moves. His hands tighten on my wrists, and without warning he flips me over onto my back. Suddenly I am the one being pinned, and when I try to break myself free, he just lowers more of his weight onto me.

  “That wasn’t very mature of you, Clara,” he says. He would sound a lot more mature himself if he weren’t still laughing a little between each of the words.

  “I guess we’ve answered that question, at least,” I reply. “Grumpy Nick Smith can laugh. And he might be the most ticklish person I’ve ever met.” I grin. “Next time you get all serious and broody on me, I know just what to do.”

  He looms closer. “You wouldn’t dare.”

  “I don’t think you can stop me,” I reply, my grin widening. “I’ve found your weakness, Nick.”

  “You wouldn’t…” His words trail off and he stiffens, as if he’s just realized how close his face is to mine. I’m suddenly aware of it, too—and suddenly equally aware of how much of his body is on top of mine. How warm and solid he feels against me. His chest is pressed so closely to mine that I’m pretty sure I can feel his heartbeat racing—unless that’s my heartbeat I’m feeling. I can’t tell.

  And between his legs…

  My face floods with heat when I realize what I can feel pressed against my thigh. But it’s not embarrassment that’s suddenly making me blush, not entirely.

  I should push him off me, I think. Pretend I don’t notice. But I can’t bring myself to do it. And Nick is still frozen above me, as paralyzed as I am.

  The heat I felt when he kissed me this morning—God, was that only this morning?—comes rushing back. My body comes alive, yearning and aching. Begging me to forget that promise I made to myself.

  You did try to send Adam away, I think. You tried to end it. To give both of you some closure. It’s a feeble argument, sure, but I’m not sure it’ll take more than a feeble argument to convince me of anything right now.

  “Nick…” I begin, then trail off when I realize I have no idea what I want to say. Do I tell him to get off me? Beg him to kiss me—and more? Do I tell him this is a good idea, or a terrible idea, or do I…

  My questions disappear when I become aware of something else—the hum of an engine.

  “A car!” I say, pushing myself up so fast that I bang my forehead against Nick’s.

  He curses, rolling off of me, and I bite back a few choice words of my own as I blink through the pain in my head and fumble for the door handle.

  Sure enough, I see a pair of headlights moving toward us down the dark road. An odd mix of relief and disappointment surges through me. I risk a glance back at Nick, but he’s already regained his composure. He gestures for me to move so he can get out of the car to stand beside me.

  “You don’t know who it is,” he says, his voice a touch more ragged than usual. But just a touch. “Let me take the lead. It would be too easy for someone to take advantage of us out here.”

  I almost argue that it would be idiotic for a thief or murderer to drive around on these lonely back roads looking for victims, but I bite my tongue. Instead, I take the opportunity to catch my breath. My heart is still galloping—it was definitely my heart I felt beating so fast—and I don’t think I’m breathing properly. My skin feels hot all over, and my stomach is fluttery and unsettled.

  Nick waves to the car, and the headlights slow as they approach. Nick is stiff, ready to attack or defend should the need arise, but his shoulders visibly relax when the car finally comes to a stop.

  “Hey!” comes a familiar voice. “Fancy meeting you out here.”

  I peer around Nick’s broad back. Bill from the Feed and Supply stares out the window of his pickup truck, smiling warmly.

  “Oh, and Miss Clara, too!” he says. “Car trouble?”

  “We seem to have run out of gas,” Nick says. “If we could get a ride back to my ranch, we’d be much obliged. I’ll make arrangements to come get the car in the morning.”

  “I can do you one better,” Bill says. “I’ve got a towing hitch on the back of this thing. I can haul you all the way to the gas pump.”

  Half an hour later, my car is hooked up to the back of the truck and I’m crammed between Bill and Nick in the cab, driving back toward town. I try not to think about how much of Nick’s thigh is pressed against mine, but that’s impossible.

  Good job avoiding complications, I think wryly. But no matter how much I try, I can’t seem to get my heart to slow down.

  Nicholas

  I find it nearly impossible to stop thinking of holding Clara in my arms, so much so that I spend the next several weeks doing all I can to avoid her.

  There’s plenty to do on my ranch—more than enough chores to keep me out of the house and away from her. And even with keeping myself busy, my thoughts seem to stray back to her any time I let my mind wander. How soft she felt in my arms. The sweet smell of her hair. The taste of her lips.

  I ball my hand into a fist, my nails digging into my palm. I have work to do, damn it. And I’ll not allow myself to think of anything else.

  I thought I’d awakened early enough this morning to avoid her altogether. There is quite a lot of work to be done in the early mornings. I’ve taken it upon myself to do those things—providing water for the animals and such—and have allowed Clara to do as she pleases, particularly since it has been far easier to avoid her by getting up as early as possible.

  Since the moment we shared together in the back of her car a few weeks ago, we both seem to be highly aware of the other—and trying to actively avoid the other. It has just made sense that I would take on the morning duties. Things have been far easier this way. Far less complicated.

  I’m sa
ddling Prince when I hear a rustling at the barn door.

  “Oh!” Clara’s eyes widen when she sees me, and she takes a step back. “I thought you’d still be in bed.”

  I lift a brow, saying nothing as I finish fastening the saddle.

  “I…I bought an alarm clock when I was in town yesterday. It seemed like the right thing to do.”

  I still say nothing as I begin to lead Prince from his stable.

  “Nick…”

  I turn to Clara. “Yes?”

  “My…my trial month was up yesterday. We should probably talk about what we want to happen—”

  “What we want to happen?” I cock my head. “As I recall, I was never given much choice in the matter.”

  She grins, and I’ll admit the sight makes my heart speed a bit. “Be that as it may, we should talk about me staying on. I think I’ve finally got the hang of things.”

  “Mm.” I’m certain the sound comes out more of a grunt.

  “Is that an agreement?” Her smile widens. “And we should talk about pay…”

  I look her up and down for a moment—I can’t seem to help myself. She’s certainly taken well to the role of ranch manager, at least as far as I can tell. She’s acquired some additional shirts that fit her better—perhaps a bit too well. As the weather is warming, she’s begun wearing less and less. And the top she wears today is unbuttoned to her cleavage and tied up around her waist, baring her midriff.

  I try to ignore the rush of blood to my cock at the sight, instead turning to my horse, clicking my tongue for it to move as I lead it from the stall.

  “Let me get Pom saddled and I’ll help.”

  I don’t turn to acknowledge her. She certainly knows I don’t require assistance with moving the cattle to the next field. It’s a daily routine—one I’ve been performing on my own just fine without her.

  Before I’m even able to mount my horse outside, Clara and Pomegranate are next to me.

  “How did you…?” I shake my head. I’m not sure I want to know how she saddled the animal so quickly.