Page 5 of Stranded with His Runaway Bride

Unlike the match itself.

His dark hair, cut short at the sides, fell thick and lustrous across his forehead. There was a long, straight imperious nose—of course, what other kind would he have?—and deep-set blue eyes that women the world over swooned for.

Those eyes watched her now. His mouth might be smiling but, oh, those stunning eyes...they were scorching the flesh from her bones.

Feeling a sharp pull of attraction was deeply inconvenient though she should have expected it. She’d not been immune to him on those few occasions they’d met. But the pulse of heat and longing had lasted only while she was in his company and any after-effects had been bested.

Eventually.

Violetta decided that right now her best defence against that was attack.

‘Oh, it’s you,’ she said, as nonchalantly as she could, and in her native Italian, not his French that they’d always conversed in before. Hoping to insult him. That the man accustomed to a lifetime of deference had rarely been greeted with less.

But he countered all that with a gracious smile, and said, in the most perfect Italian accent that shivered over skin, ‘You were expecting someone else?’

‘My money was on it being the prime minister. When I heard the sports car, of course, I knew it wasn’t him. Far too flashy and undignified.’

A strong male jaw tightened. He wasn’t smiling quite so hard now.

‘But I really wasn’t expecting you. I thought you’d have been too busy.’

‘My other appointments for the day were all cancelled. At rather short notice,’ he added pleasantly enough. But she wasn’t fooled. She could see the anger in the set of his shoulders and the fists bunched at his sides.

‘Yeah, sorry about that...’ She peered past him to the empty hallway.

‘I’m here alone, if you’re wondering. I took off so fast my security team didn’t have time to follow. I told them I’d call them en route but, sadly, I forgot I’d left the valet in charge of my phone so they’ve no idea where I am.’

His crack security team did not have a clue where their prince was? That sounded unlikely. ‘Won’t they be out scouring the countryside for you?’

‘Of course. But I doubt anyone will think to come here just yet.’

‘You did.’

‘But I know you have history with the place. As far as anyone else will recollect, you do not. Unless your uncle or your people consider it.’

She snorted. ‘Mypeople have all been replaced and my uncle will hardly have cared about any holidays his niece once took.’

His brow knotted. ‘Your people were replaced?’ His surprise almost sounded genuine. But he’d had a hand in the changes to her team. She’d bet her life on it.

The man who stood before her now was palpably angry. Gone was the smoothly charming prince. Here was a creature of hard angles and bunched muscle. Was he bigger than she remembered? Surely not? It had only been two weeks since she’d last been in his company. Heat coursed through her belly.

She looked away to gaze straight ahead. Feigning aloofness, because inside she quailed. It gave her a moment to gather her wits. To push back the clamour of need.

Finally she steeled herself to it. Straightened her spine and met his eye.

His hard gaze burned into her. Not as a man wanted a woman but as a man wanted a thing, because to him she meant nothing more than a conduit to San Nicolo. Like every man in her life. Her only value to them was in the possessions she held. That was why it was him that followed her. She’d denied him the duchy and he was here to collect.

‘I won’t go back with you if that’s why you’re here?’ she said, using French now.

She’d known this moment was coming but she hadn’t expected to be completely alone with him when it did. And with him looking likethat.

Stunning in full military uniform as Colonel-in-Chief of the Grimentzian Guards. With the addition of a blue sash denoting his royalty and his chest bristling with honours, her every soft feminine instinct wanted to simply drink in the sight.

Foolish woman. Think of something else.

Her gaze flickered over the bar of medals he wore. Apart from being born into privilege, the only child of a very important man, what single useful or arduous thing had he done to earn even one? By contrast she’d been denied every one of her own San Nicolo royal honours.

‘It will be a mark of respect for your new position as Crown Princess of Grimentz,’her uncle had said. Brushing aside her concerns, just as he had her team of faithful retainers, fired, moved on, or replaced over the last six months. Her chauffeur and Rolfe, her secretary, even Luisa, her dresser, her confidante, her friend. The one person she’d truly had to talk to. She’d been removed a week before this sham of a wedding. All with the agreement of her future husband, she had no doubt.

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