Page 15 of His Savage Sweet

Oh, dear God. Was the man nervous? I’d made a prince nervous? A man who could have literally any woman in the country, and was sitting here with me, and I’d made him nervous?

Instinctively, my hand covered his free one on the table beside his plate. “I’ve been interested in ye for a long time, Wulf.”

At the sound of his name his eyes flicked to mine once more, and he smiled. Not the sensual smile he’d given when he’d arrived at my door, and not the beastly smile—more of a snarl—he gave after one of the sparring sessions I’d watched.

But a smile of genuine joy that reached down into my heart and stomach and lower and squeezed until I thought I might burst from the perfection of it.

Aye…I was in love.

Chapter 6

Wulf

I think I’m in love.

Absolutely everything I’d learned about Anna told me she would be a good match for me: the perfect size, the perfect shape. She was tall enough, curvy enough I didn’t have to worry about breaking her…and was witty as hell.

She was intelligent in the way I could appreciate; not like Findlay, with his nose in a book all the time, but intelligent about the world and people around her. She worked for a living, and I could respect that…even before I’d had a taste of her “work”.

I was beginning to think I was trying to talk myself into marrying her for her fig-and-blue-cheese tarts.

Marriage?

That’s what Father wanted, after all. Us brothers to find wives. He didn’t say they had to be proper wives, ladies of elegance and breeding like Rickard’s Clarissa…just wives who would make us happy.

I’d spent the last weeks beating myself up—sometimes literally—because I couldn’t stand the way I’d used Anna. I wasn’t that kind of man; I wasn’t like Rickard—fookin’ perfect Rickard—who liked his women on their knees. I wasn’t like Findlay, whom I doubted knew what to do with a woman. I liked women who could meet me head-on, who took their own pleasure from my body.

And she owned her own copy of A Harlot’s Guide.

The memory of Anna lying on that table, fingering her own clit, had been simultaneously the biggest arousal and the biggest moment of guilty remorse of my life.

I’d used her, and while it had been amazing, the way she knew how to bring herself pleasure…it also meant I hadn’t been the one to do that for her. To bring her pleasure. She didn’t need me.

I’d used her body, and hadn’t had the decency to apologize or bring her to her peak…and she’d still agreed to dinner with me!

Tonight, everything I’d learned about her told me I wanted another chance. Another chance to fook her, to make love to her…to spend the rest of my life setting things right.

“Marry me, Anna.”

She choked on her salad.

I handed her a glass of water and grinned while she gulped it down.

Finally, she seemed to compose herself. “What did ye say?” she asked, half-laughing, half-shocked.

I suppose I shouldn’t have sprung it on her like that.

I winced. “I asked ye to marry me, although I’ll admit it was an awkward proposal.”

“Ye want me to—?” She cut off her question, laughing even harder now. “I cannae marry ye!”

Well, shite. Asking a woman to marry him certainly could destroy a man’s ego. “Why no’?”

“Because ye’re a prince. I’m one of yer servants.”

“Nay,” I corrected. “Ye’re a brilliant pastry chef who happens to work for my family. And ye ken I love food.”

“Aye, but ye don’t love…well, me.”

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