Page 10 of Back to Claim His Crown
Thelastthing she wanted was his assistance now. And equally she knew it was the last thinghewanted to do now too. Which in all made her defiantly toss her head as she did as he’d commanded so savagely and turned her back on him.
There was a moment of stillness, yet her temperature soared as she felt the frisson of sexual promise that he surely hadn’t meant. Then she felt his breath on the back of her neck. She closed her eyes, gritting her teeth so she wouldn’t shudder in response. He carefully—far too slowly—worked the thin blade.
Her muscles screamed with the effort to stay still—not to lean back into him or to run away. Both urges were overwhelmingly intense. She’d never had a more intimate moment with any man. He was undressing her—or at least trying to. The flare of heat kept rising. She ached to be free of the confines of the horribly constricting dress. Her breasts felt crushed, her taut nipples ached. It was appalling. She needed hishelp. That was all. She didn’t want anythingmore. Yet the drive deep within her was breathtakingly strong. And she just knew that he wasn’t at all the cold-blooded warrior he appeared.
‘Is it done?’ she asked impatiently, embarrassed by her breathlessness. She couldn’t stand to be this close much longer.
She heard a muttered imprecation beneath his breath, his control audibly weakening too.
‘It’s very tightly stitched,’ he gritted.
‘You can rip it to shreds for all I care.’ Shedesperatelyneeded to get away from him.
The second she felt it loosen she stepped forward for breathing space and—
‘Wait—’
She heard a sharp shredding sound as she turned. A sudden coolness hit her skin. It was a blink before she realised the bodice had slipped to her waist.
He went rigid. ‘Cover yourself.’
Her humiliation was overridden by a flare of fury unlike any other and, instead of doing as he ordered, she let her hands drop. It was in absolute defiance of everyone who’d told her what to do all day—what to do all herlife. She was so sick of doing as she was told, trying to please, trying to be perfect, and failing. Her reason was obliterated in the heat of this last horror.
‘Youstood bare-chested in front of an entirecathedralof people, not to mention the millions watching on camera,’ she spat. ‘It means nothing. What does it matter if I’m bare-chested now?’
He’d already whipped the tee shirt over his head and now held it out to her. ‘Put this on. Immediately. Or I’ll put it on you myself.’
His gaze didn’t waver from her eyes—not dropping to look at her half naked body again. He—unlike she—had too much self-control. She snatched the tee, turning away to put it on. It swamped her and was scented with that soft hint of sweet caramel and suddenly she was shaking. She held the skirts to her hips, shame and humiliation returning in a sweep. Yet she didn’t entirely regret the flare. It had felt good to release just some of the fury.
Butheflared now. ‘You wore that dress for someoneelse.’
‘I wore it formyself,’ she said angrily. ‘I was very deliberate in the style I agreed to. I wanted modesty to protect myself from their judgement, not to emphasise any impression ofinnocence.’
‘In what possible way would they judge you negatively?’
She snatched a breath. ‘Because I’m nothing like the perfect image presented today,’ she muttered with a wobbly smile. ‘Not just bitten nails. No one usually even sees me. But today I knew everyone would. So I went for the full makeover. I’m covered almost head to toe in diamonds and silk and lace to distract from what’s beneath.’
‘Why would you desire to distract anyone from what’s beneath? I’ve just seen—’ He bit his lip and didn’t finish the sentence.
She wanted him to finish it. She wanted so many wild, impossible things. Most of all—right now—his touch. She wanted to lose herself in the overwhelming masculinity, the strength, the sensual drive emanating from him. She wanted him to sweep her away. It was absolutely insane.
He stepped away, only to suddenly swing back. ‘You were the first to acknowledge that I was who I said I was. We have not met. What made you so sure?’
‘Your eyes.’ She answered automatically.
He said nothing.
‘The colour,’ she added in a mumble. ‘The shape.’
‘Despite the scar?’
‘Of course.’ She couldn’t look away from him. She was almost overcome by the desire to trace the gap in his eyebrow with the tip of her finger. ‘Did you get it—?’
‘When I nearly died? Yes.’
‘Was it...?’
‘Anders who tried to finish me off? Yes. Not only had you not slept with him, you barely knew him. You may not like to hear it, but Ididrescue you from far more than you realise.’
