Page 30 of Stranded with His Runaway Bride

Thinking.

Running through his various options and feeling unprepared. Because of all the reasons Violetta might have chosen to run, this was the last thing he’d expected.

A democratic duchy right on the doorstep of Grimentz? Meaning San Nicolo would be lost to the von Frohburgs for good.

His father would have been apoplectic.

Yet curiously Leo was able to summon little outrage at the prospect. A few hours ago, he’d come up here all guns blazing determined to reclaim his runaway bride. And now?

Now he was no longer sure what he wanted.

His people had their own elected bodies, with a say in how Grimentz was run. The Della Torres had not been so liberal-minded, they’d held onto power with a fierce grip. The current regent being more rigid than most. Why shouldn’t San Nicolo have the same freedoms Grimentz enjoyed? He’d planned to introduce something similar once he’d become Grand Duke.

Yes, but a full-blown democracy, with potentially all power stripped from its former ruling family? That should give him pause, surely?

Again, Leo felt nothing beyond a curiosity about how that might work for the duchy.

Perhaps a pair of melting brown eyes had temporarily bewitched him?

Was that it? A woman making him think twice about what he wanted? When he’d had little cause to trust one before.

He left the kitchen and walked back through the grand hallway. With its marble pillars and elaborate chandeliers and frivolous ballroom. All symbols of the power and wealth and status of a well-connected family.

The wind had moaned and rattled at the window of her little room, but, snuggled beneath the counterpane of her single bed, Violetta had actually slept. She’d felt safe knowing that Leo was somewhere in the house, which was a revelation, because wasn’t he supposed to be the last person she should trust?

The night before she’d been so tense, she’d barely closed her eyes, but now she woke feeling refreshed.

She washed her face, smoothed her elaborate chignon and, on impulse, put the tiara back on. For some reason it gave her confidence.

On the window ledge outside her room sat a torch. Leo must have placed it there for her and she was touched by the thoughtful gesture.

The roiling clouds lashed rain against the windows, but Leo’s torch lit the way as she descended the stairs of the servants’ quarters.

The kitchen was cosy with its blinds drawn and storm lanterns sat on the table and dresser. The man who’d set them emerged from the pantry.

‘Ah, you’re up. I thought I was going to have to beat on your door to wake you.’

She rubbed her eyes. ‘How long have I been asleep?’

‘Several hours. It’s past seven now.’ He held up another of the tins from their small pantry. ‘Dinner?’

‘You can’t already be hungry?’

‘After the delights of that gruel you fed me for lunch, you mean?’

He moved around the kitchen with the same grace as he moved through his royal duties. In that collarless shirt, with his sleeves rolled back, he had such a relaxed allure about him. The dim light caught on the slash of his cheekbones, the strong jaw, those broad shoulders and lean hips.

Such a dangerous charm. She must not forget he could still so easily derail her plans for the duchy if she let him. Violetta took a steadying breath, trying to control the effect he had on her.

She watched him collect plates and cutlery and set two places at the table.

‘You’re actually quite domesticated,’ she said, slipping into a seat.

He grasped a bottle of wine. ‘You make it sound like I’m half wild.’

She watched the muscles on his forearms flex as he worked a corkscrew into its top. The strong grip of his hands as he pulled the cork clear.

How had Francesca described him? A part-tame wolf. He was all lean strength and barely contained energy. Despite their everyday surroundings, it was there, a distinct aura of danger. Violetta crushed her fingers together in her lap.

---