Claiming His Princess: Duty at What Cost? / A Throne for the Taking / Princess in the Iron Mask. Kate Walker
must be completely uncomfortable by now. Serve her right.
‘I told you to keep your hands where I could see them.’
She rolled her eyes. ‘Do you think it might be at all possible that I could wait on the ground for your men to return? I promise not to overpower you while they are gone.’
The air seemed to buzz with the antagonistic heat she imbued him with, and her accent lent her sardonic words a sexy edge. She was a wicked combination of beauty and spirit, and not even the way she spoke down to him was enough to keep his libido at bay. A truly annoying realisation.
‘I think I can handle you.’
Her eyes dropped to his mouth and Wolfe felt a kick of lust all the way to his toes. He waited, breathless, for the heat in his groin to dissipate, but if anything it got worse. Then her eyes blazed into his and the chemistry he’d been trying to ignore sparked like a live wire between them.
The way her eyes widened he thought perhaps she had read his thoughts, but that was impossible. Fourteen years in the business and Wolfe knew how to hide what he was feeling—hell, he’d learned how to do that by the time he could walk.
Perhaps she’d just felt the same burn he had. And had liked it just as little, if her wary gaze was anything to go by. Which gave him a moment’s pause. If she was a journalist—or, worse, some sort of political stalker—she’d have already used that connection to manipulate him, not shy away from it as if she’d just been singed.
His eyes took in wrists that looked impossibly slender within the cuffs of her masculine-style shirt, then moved down along fine-boned hands and nails buffed to perfection. She didn’t do hard labour. That much was obvious.
He knew instinctively she was who she said she was. It was in her regal bearing, the swanlike arch of her neck, in her sense of entitlement and the way she looked at him as if he was staff. His mother had often looked at his father like that and Wolfe had always felt sorry for the poor bastard.
She shifted again, her eyes on the ground. ‘Do you have any suggestions on how I might get down from here?’ And with a degree of dignity, her tone seemed to imply.
‘Perhaps you’d like me to unfold my trusty ladder from my back pocket?’ Wolfe mocked. ‘Oh, dear. Left it at home.’ He opened his hands, palms facing upwards. ‘Guess you’ll just have to jump into my arms, Princess. What a treat.’
His horse snickered and her eyes used the excuse to glance at the stallion before returning to his. ‘Channelling your inner Zorro?’ she asked sweetly.
His lips twitched. ‘Only because I left my Batman tool belt at home.’
‘With Robin?’
Despite his less than stellar mood he chuckled. ‘Cute. Toss down the boots first.’ The last thing he wanted was to be stabbed by one of those dangerous-looking heels, and by the gleam in her eyes that was exactly what she was considering.
‘I have a better idea. Why don’t I just go back down the way I came up?’
‘No.’
Her lips tightened. ‘It makes perfect sense. I can—’
‘Try it and I will shoot you.’
‘You don’t have a gun.’
‘I have a gun.’
She paused, her stillness telling him she was weighing up whether he was telling the truth or not. Her eyes slid down his torso and over his legs and he felt a rush of unexpected excitement, as if she’d actually touched him.
‘You are being overly obnoxious about this,’ she fumed.
‘Not yet, I’m not.’ Wolfe barely managed to suppress his rising aggravation at this physical response to a woman he already didn’t like. ‘But I’m getting close.’
‘If you drop me I’ll sue you.’
‘If you don’t hurry up and get down from that wall I’ll sue you.’
Her dark brows arched imperiously. ‘For what?’
‘Trying my patience. Now, pass down the boots. Nice and easy,’ he warned softly.
With an audible sigh she dropped her boots one after the other into his outstretched hands. The kid leather was warm from her touch.
‘Now you.’ His voice had grown rough—a clear indication that some part of him was looking forward to holding her in his arms. And what was wrong with that? He might not be interested in starting up another affair straight after his last one had ended so tastelessly, but he was male and this woman was beautiful.
‘I’d rather wait for a ladder.’
So would he.
‘Then you’d better settle in. I run security, not rescue.’
Again she glanced dubiously at the ground. ‘It didn’t seem like such a big drop when I was younger. And What happened to the chestnut tree that used to grow here?’
‘Now you’re mistaking me for a gardener, Princess. What next?’
Her eyes narrowed. ‘Certainly not for a nice man. Rest assured of that. And my correct title is Your Royal Highness.’
He knew the correct title. He might not be royal himself, but he’d met enough in his lifetime to know how to address one. ‘Thanks for the tip. But I don’t have all day. So let’s go.’ Time to stop thinking about the tempting swell of her breasts and her hot mouth.
‘You don’t have all day? Thanks to you, I’m impossibly late now,’ she complained.
He beckoned her with his fingers. ‘My heart bleeds.’
‘You’re really very rude.’
‘Want me to leave you up there?’ he prompted, fresh out of patience.
‘Excuse me for being a little uneasy.’
Wolfe sighed and held his hands up again. ‘I’ve never dropped a princess before.’
‘You’ve probably never had the opportunity before now.’
He shook his head. ‘You sure do know how to make yourself vulnerable, Princess.’
She muttered something in French, making him want to smile. she was all fire and…attitude!
Balancing on her hands, she carefully swung her leg over the wall, so that she was perched on it like a little chipmunk, her fingers turning white as she gripped the edge. Still she hesitated, lifting first one thigh and then the other to make sure the fabric of her jeans didn’t catch.
‘Want me to count to three?’ he drawled.
She threw him a dark look, her eyes fixed firmly on his, and then they snapped closed and she launched herself off the wall.
Wolfe felt her svelte torso slide through his hands as he caught her, his arms winding around her before she hit the ground. Her rib cage heaved as she dragged in an unsteady breath, the movement flattening her soft breasts against his hard chest.
Her arms clung tight around his neck, holding his face against the warm pulse at the base of her neck. His senses instantly filled with her heat and sweet perfume. He usually found perfume cloying. Hers wasn’t, and was probably the reason he held her longer than he needed to. Held her moulded against him as if he’d been doing it his whole life. Held her long enough to wonder how it would feel to fit himself deep inside her.
Tight. Hot. Wet.
Wolfe’s head reared back as his senses took over and he found himself staring into exquisite, wide-spaced navy blue eyes that made him feel as if he’d been hit by a land-to-air missile.
‘You can put me down now,’ she said a little breathlessly.
He could slide his hands down to