Page 5 of His Forever Princess

Had he guessed that her thoughts would spiral in terrible circles?

She breathed in deeply and was shocked by the familiar scent of his skin. He'd used that same soap since she'd met him. She just hadn't been close enough to smell it in ages.

Suddenly uncomfortable, she straightened. "The stitches look all right. But I'm not a doctor."

He nodded, meeting her eyes in the small rectangular mirror that was shoulder-height for his tall frame. "Can you stick a bandage on for me?"

She glanced past him to the sink, where he'd carefully laid out a white gauze square. It had tape on all four sides. All she needed to do was press it over his wound.

She reached past him to pick up the gauze. Her hand brushed his bare arm and the shock of the inadvertent touch sent her eyes flying to his in the mirror.

His gaze was hooded, telling her nothing.

Maybe she was the only one unmanned by the graze of skin against skin.

She grabbed the bandage and carefully lined it up before she pressed it against his skin. This time she was better prepared for the sparks that coursed through her.

"Good enough?" she forced a cool tone into her voice and when he nodded—she couldn't quite meet his eyes now—she turned to retreat.

There was nowhere to run, so she began making up the bed.

It had been a long time since she'd touched a man. That's what she told herself as she kept her eyes on her task. That was the reason for her overblown reaction. She missed touching, being touched.

It didn't mean anything.

And she needed to get ahold of herself if she was going to keep him from discovering her secret.

ChapterTwo

Alessandra opened her eyes. She didn't know how much time had passed or whether she'd dozed off or not.

She rolled over.

The sheets on the bed at this remote cabin weren't the same quality she was used to. The feel of them against her legs was just a shade off uncomfortable.

Or maybe it was the company making her so restless.

There was Gideon, standing where she'd last seen him. He had one shoulder propped against the wall and stared out a sliver of exposed window.

She sighed softly. And she knew he heard, because his eyes flickered briefly.

"It's the middle of the night," she whispered. "You need to sleep."

"I'm fine."

His stitches had just barely opened. He hadn't lost much blood, but a gunshot wound was a gunshot wound. And they'd driven sixteen hours straight to get here.

She had a sudden urge to growl, like some kind of wild animal. Or chuck a pillow at him.

The man was so stubborn. So stubborn.

Well, so was she. Years ago, she had single-handedly convinced the royal council to uphold one of Eloise’s only edicts.

She sat up in bed, the sheets folding around her bent knees. Her hair was loose and fell over one shoulder.

"You're not a machine," she argued softly. "You need rest just the same as I do."

Saying the words aloud was a good reminder for her, too. She'd lived in survival mode for so long. Sometimes it was easier to think of Gideon as a machine. A thing with no feelings.

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