Page 100 of Vengeful Princess

That didn’t sound like the Dar I remembered. He used to work out a bit, but not obsessively. He was more interested in books and art than lifting weights.

“We knew each other when I was younger.” This was nothing Landon didn’t already know. It was bloody obvious we knew each other. Nobody reacted that badly to meeting a stranger they’d never seen before.

Not that I meant anything to Dar now. Whatever awful things he thought I’d done had obviously killed any feelings he might have had.

“Why does he seem to hate you? He said some pretty fucked up shit about you.”

My body tensed at his words. I reached for my jacket, ready to stand and leave.

“And you believed him?” There was no way I was staying here if he was going to trash talk me.

“No, of course not.” Landon rolled his eyes with exasperation. “The stuff he said about giving it up to a bunch of guys is obviously bullshit. We know you were a virgin before Kyril.”

My shoulders relaxed.He didn’t think I was a slut. I picked up my tea, needing something to do with my hands. To distract me.

“What did he mean when he said you were supposed to be his?”

Well, fuck. I had hoped none of them remembered that bit.

“No idea,” I lied. “As I said, we knew each other as kids, and then he left.” I steeled my expression, giving nothing away, just like my father taught me. “I’ve not seen Dar…Dariofor years. Him showing up was as much a surprise to me as seeing me was to him.”

Landon ground his teeth some more, clearly unhappy with my explanation. “You can talk to me, Thea. I’m like a vault - nothing goes beyond these four walls.”

Did he really expect me to trust him with my secrets? Secrets that could get us both killed? Nope. Not a chance.

Swallowing the last dregs of my tea, I made a show of glancing at my watch. “I think we should get back. I have a class at 4.”

He shot me a wink.

“There’s enough time for a quick tour of the house.”

My stomach cramped, but not because I’d stuffed my face with cake. Oh no. It was more the unspoken promise in his words.

The sexual tension swirled between us like a thick, musky fog. He’d been nothing but gentlemanly since we arrived. Aside from a few heated glances when I leaned forward to add more tea tomy cup, which inadvertently displayed some cleavage, not one flirtatious comment had fallen from his lips.

It was quite unlike Landon Fucking Rothmore.

Ignoring the fluttering sensation between my thighs as I watched his ass, I followed him out of the humid garden room. The hallway felt cool compared to the hot, fragrant air of the garden room, and I shivered.

The main staircase led upstairs to a galleried landing. Paintings lined the walls, most of them featuring men on horseback, all wearing kilts.

“Do you have a kilt?” I mused, almost to myself. Landon could pull off a skirt. He had great legs. Thick and muscular. I pictured his thighs flexing as he took me to pound town and had to stifle a whimper.

I heard him chuckle. “Of course. Do you want to see me in it? Happy to model one for you, wifey. Kilts are great. Easy access.” He winked again.

“No, it’s fine,” I blurted before I self-combusted and set fire to the staircase. It would be an awful shame to ruin a centuries old oak staircase.

Landon led me along a wide landing, past several bedrooms with four-poster beds, and down a narrow passageway that seemingly ended at a tapestried wall. “Are we lost?” I asked him, not sure what the point of being here was. Sure, it was a nice tapestry, but seen one, seen them all was my motto.

“Just wait.” He pushed the thick fabric to one side to reveal a small, concealed door. “This house has lots of hidden rooms and passageways. There’s one that leads from the cellar and goes outside to the stables. Rumor has it that one of my ancestors escaped through that tunnel when English soldiers came to arrest him after Culloden.”

“Did he get away?”

“Not for long. Someone betrayed him. Three days later, soldiers found him in bed with his mistress. They took him to Tilbury Fort. He was executed not long after.”

I shuddered, picturing soldiers dragging the poor man out of bed in the dead of night and then stringing him up on the gallows at dawn. Grim.

“But luckily for me, he was a randy old goat who’d fathered a few kids, so our bloodline continued.”

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