Page 19 of A Ring to Claim Her Crown
The auctioneer smiled, gavel already raised to pronounce the sale, when a smooth voice rang out across the chatter of the excited crowd.
‘I’d like to double that.’
Minerva looked to find Liro had reappeared in the same spot he’d vacated, looking utterly bored and unruffled, as though he’d been there all along.
The auctioneer stuttered, calling out the final figure with a question. Liro nodded, his expression utterly neutral as he stared in the direction of the prince. Lorenz scowled, shock and disbelief warring on his finely chiselled features for a long moment before he sat down, placing his small white number firmly in his lap.
‘Sold, to the handsome ginger fellow at the front,’ crooned the auctioneer.
Minerva was furious.
As if it wasn’t bad enough that Liro had paid an exorbitant amount of money for one dinner with her, but he’d done it in front of an audience, advertising his position as one of her suitors. Then, after he’d signed the contract for their date, he’d simply disappeared. No discussion, no opportunity for her to tell him exactly how inappropriate and inconvenient his little stunt was. Not to mention no chance for her to ask him why he’d done it, when they had already agreed that he needed to leave Arqaleta before his identity was discovered. He’d simply left without a word.
When a note appeared with her morning post, requesting her attendance on his yacht later that evening, she felt her irritation peak. No, he would not send for her at his convenience. Her schedule was empty that afternoon, in preparation for the grand ball tomorrow evening, and again that niggling voice of suspicion within her wondered if her mother had deliberately organised it that way.
Ignoring that thought, she showered and changed out of the chic linen suit she’d worn to that morning’s poetry and arts event which she’d attended with a very forlorn Jean-Claude. The Frenchman had been predictably attentive and apologetic about having been unable to win her in the auction. As had the others, when they’d approached her for dances after Liro had disappeared. Prince Lorenz in particular had been bordering upon rage as he’d not so subtly questioned her about the red-haired shipping magnate who seemed so intent upon monopolising her time.
Blood pounded in her ears as she stalked across the lawns in the direction of the port, the wind lapping her unbound hair and the plain black smock-dress she’d grabbed in her hurry. If he expected a princess for dinner, he would be sorely disappointed. She fully intended to tell Liro exactly where he could shove his bought date for the evening. That was, until she arrived down at the dock, to find the man himself standing on the bow of his mega-yacht, dressed in a pair of ripped jeans and nothing else.
She had wondered what Liro might look like as a sailor. Judging by the way he easily hoisted a thick rope between his hand and elbow, twining it round and round, calling across to his crew and giving orders, she’d imagined he’d looked pretty much like this—like a handsome, ginger-bearded pirate, getting ready to set sail across the seas in search of adventure.
She had thought that her travels with the archery team were thrilling—she had travelled all across the world, hadn’t she? She had been given more freedom than her mother had ever dreamed of—a fact that the Queen reminded her of often enough.
But...she had never seen someone look quite as free as Liro did in that moment, the slightly cloudy sky shielding his fair skin from the harsh sun while the wind ruffled his thick red hair back from his forehead. The natural colour of his hair was even more mesmerising out here on the water. The richness of the bronze-red captivated her and made her fingers itch to run through it.
She gave herself a mental shake, clearing her throat, but the noise was drowned out by the sounds of the docks. Liro still had his back turned to her and was deeply engrossed in whatever he was doing with the heavy rope. He was working hard enough that sweat coated his brow and glistened on his bare shoulders as he heaved and pulled the rope around a large steel pole. The tattoo she had spied running up his forearm was in full view now, a winding design in black ink that formed an intricate sleeve across his right arm, shoulder and upper pectoral muscle. Minerva licked her suddenly dry lips, trying to ignore the mental image her treacherous mind produced in which she actually got to feel those muscles in greater detail...
Of course, he chose that exact moment to turn around, his green-grey eyes meeting hers with pure brazen confidence as he smiled broadly.
‘You’re a bit early for dinner.’ His deep voice carried easily.
‘I’m not here to eat,’ she shouted back, crossing her arms over her chest as he moved down the ladder from the upper deck, coming to a stop at the open gangway directly across from her. He leaned against the railing, eyeing her up with the kind of slow precision that made her skin prickle.
‘You look pretty hungry to me,princesa.’ His lips quirked. ‘Have you looked your fill already?’
‘I wasn’tlooking, I was...staring.’
‘Staring at me,’ he clarified helpfully.
‘You’re practically naked up there, for goodness’ sake!’ she blurted. ‘If I were to do the same, I’m sure I’d get some odd looks too.’
He laughed, closing his eyes for a moment as he gripped the railing hard.
Minerva growled under her breath. ‘Liro, I came here to...’
He raised one hand to stop her. ‘Hold on, I’m just trying to get a proper visual in order to make an informed rebuttal.’
‘That is grossly inappropriate.’ She fought not to laugh as he appeared to concentrate even harder, his eyes remaining firmly closed for a few more seconds.
‘You’re right. If you were up here topless, winding rope, it would be catastrophic for this whole crew.’
‘Catastrophic?’
‘I’d have to have them all fired, of course. Anyone who’d laid eyes on you would be severely punished.’
‘Including you?’ she asked, enjoying their back and forth far too much.
‘Oh, I wouldn’t need to look, of course,’ he said smoothly, the smile leaving his lips. ‘I close my eyes and you’re right there. Always.’
