Page 10 of Royal Academy

“I say,” Professor Whitten, a rather nice-looking man in his mid-thirties was standing at the top of the stairs. He motioned to the students that were gawking at the scene.

The Dean seemed to come to life at that moment and started ushering them away. Lia was moaning softly, still facing down on the steps. Nick got to his feet somewhat steadily and plucked Lia up and into his arms.

He would be damned if Professor Whitten was to get a good view of Lia in her sports bra.

Professor Whitten reached out a hand, “I can help.”

But Nick’s arms tightened, “No need, I have her.”

“What were you two running from?”

Nick had always felt that honesty was the best policy, however, he also could see that revealing his cards at this point might not be best for either himself or Lia.

“There was a bee in Princess Amelia’s shirt,” Nick lied through his teeth. “She is deathly allergic.”

Professor Whitten blinked stupidly as the Dean came blustering up the steps, “A bee? Are you telling me that you both were nearly splattered all over the steps for a bee?”

Nick drew himself up to his full height, ignoring the way that Lia was shivering in his arms. He had a sneaking suspicion that she was laughing at him.

“Would you like to explain to King Vicenza about her daughter's death? I know I would rather want to avoid that conversation.”

The Dean swallowed nervously knowing full well that the Academy existed through the sole patronage of the King.

He began to backpedal, “Of course, it was an emergency. You were only doing your duty.”

Professor Whitten didn’t look as impressed, “Don’t they have medicine that one can give if they are stung?”

Nick glared at the man. Not only was he standing entirely too close, but he was eyeing Lia’s naked midriff rather lecherously.

“Does it look like she has her epinephrine on her?” Nick said icily.

Professor Whitten backed up a step, “No, I don’t suppose she did. Rather careless of her, I should think.”

Nick felt his dislike of the man soar at his criticism of Lia’s supposed lack of response to her imaginary allergy.

The Dean stepped in, “I hate to be a bother, but it doesn’t look quite right for you to be holding her like that on the stairs. Are you okay, Princess Amelia?”

Lia’s face was buried in Nick’s neck and if the truth were to be told she was reveling at the nearness of the man. He was hard angles and smooth muscles. So very different from her smaller form that she wasn’t about to move from his embrace.

She moaned softly, “Just take me to my room.”

Nick gave the men a curt nod and then walked down the hallway to the end of the facility corridor and straight to her bedroom. Turning the knob which she obviously had forgotten to lock he marched inside and dumped her unceremoniously on the bed.

Lia squealed before turning to glare at him, “That wasn’t nice!”

“Neither was playing possum out there,” he retorted. His eyes locked on the bruises starting to form on her shins. “Damn it, woman, you are a walking hazard area.”

Lia looked down and winced at the purple flesh.

“Let me see your arm,” Nick demanded.

Lia flinched, “No, you have helped enough, thank you.”

Nick had far enough of this woman to last him a lifetime, “Fine, if you decide to bleed out please put a shirt on. I don’t want to have to save you again in your underwear!”

Lia threw her bloody t-shirt at him, but it only made it as far as the foot of the bed, “I don’t need your help, and I didn’t ask for it!”

Nick turned on his heel and proceeded to her door, “Bloody ingrate!”

“High handed pig!” she screamed back just as he slammed her door.

She glanced down at her arm, it really did hurt—and somehow she just knew that it was all his fault.

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