Lone Prince by Lilian Monroe
Rowan
Warmth tinglesover my skin as I blink my eyes open. A face looms in front of mine, an older man with a thick, white mustache.
“Miss Reed,” he says, his voice pinched, yet friendly. “You’re awake.” I try to sit up, when the man puts his hand on my shoulder. “My name is Doctor Williams. You were found on the road leading to the Summer Palace with severe hypothermia. You were brought here. We’ve given you warm intravenous fluids and warmed your body temperature up. Please rest.”
I lie back on the sofa, suddenly keenly aware that I’m not wearing any clothing. My fingers brush against my thighs as my heart leaps in my chest, and I feel the edge of my underwear around my hips. But when my hand drifts higher…
Oh, shit.
I’m not wearing a bra. My breath catches as discomfort races through me.
At least I have undies on. I’m not completely naked.
Blinking, I look from the doctor to the roaring fire. Dr. Williams shoves a side table closer, where a steaming mug of tea sits waiting. I nod in thanks.
Then, movement.
My eyes are drawn to the edge of the room and I notice him for the first time. I suck in a breath, eyes widening.
I’ve seen those amber eyes in photos before. The soft curls of black hair. The sharp jaw and dark brow.
The Prince.
“I…I…” I stammer, then stop. Why is Prince Wolfe here? And why is he staring at me like he wants to sink his teeth into my neck and rip it to shreds?
And I’m nearly freaking naked.
I’ve never seen anger like that before. He might as well be a predator, stalking his prey in the dead of night. He watches me, analyzing every movement with those fiery eyes the color of honey.
His hands are interlaced under his chin, elbows resting on his knees. Even seated, I can tell he’s tall. Powerful. It’s the way his limbs fold on each other, all graceful muscle and coiled power. The width of him almost obscures the armchair he’s sitting in, as if the furniture in here is just a bit too small to hold him.
He stares at me, unmoving.
Is he the one who found me? Has he seen me naked? Oh my goodness. Oh God. No. I take a breath, trying to sit up. The doctor makes a noise and puts his hand on my shoulder again.
“Rest, Miss Reed.”
“I’m fine,” I croak, eyes drawn to the Prince once more.
He shifts in the chair, leaning back. He props his head in his hand, keeping his eyes on me. I crawl up on the sofa, keeping my arms clamped over my chest to hold the blanket against my skin. I wish I had a shirt on.
The fire crackles. The doctor rummages somewhere behind me. Wind howls outside, banging against the shutters.
But none of it matters.
The Prince is here.
And he’s angry.
Why does that make my insides feel warm? Why are my thighs clenching at the way his eyes sweep over me?
“Do you know where you are?” he says slowly, his voice rippling across the distance between us. It’s warm, with harsh edges that make every nerve in my body bristle with warning.
This man is dangerous.
I nod. “At the Summer Palace in Nord.”
He stares, his eyes dropping to my bare shoulders. I try not to squirm. When his eyes drift up my neck, pausing on my lips, a new kind of heat curls lazily through my core. I drop my chin, reaching for the mug of tea on the side table.
“Why were you outside in a peacoat this close to the Arctic Circle?”
“It’s all I have,” I admit. “I thought…” I frown, stealing a glance at him over my mug of tea.
Big mistake.
His eyes drill holes through me. They make fire burn hotter in my core and steal the words right out of my mouth. As he lounges back in the chair, his long limbs extending toward me, I have the urge to crawl to him. To curl up on his lap and purr against his chest, just to feel the power that lies within.
Blinking, I look down again. “My grandmother was supposed to pick me up. There was no one else. I had no cell phone reception. All the taxis were gone. I had no choice.”
When the Prince doesn’t answer, I look up. His lips are pinched, but it doesn’t take away from their fullness. They’d feel good to kiss. I just know they would. A shadow of hair covers the bottom half of his face, as if he’s the kind of man who never quite looks clean-shaven. Stubble grows within an hour of a razor touching his skin.
The Prince parts his lips. “Mrs. Reed is your grandmother.”
It doesn’t sound like a question, but I nod anyway. His eyes are still on me, tracing the lines of my face and dropping down to my body again. He watches me take a sip of tea, catching every movement I make. I hate the way he stares, but I don’t want him to stop. He scares me, like a deep, primal trill in my brain telling me to run away.
“Are you here to replace her?” he asks, his words slow. He blinks slowly, then arches a brow. As if the idea of me being here is laughable.
I frown. “No. Why would I be replacing her? Where is she?”
Suddenly, her absence sends panic shooting down my spine. I glance around the lodge, seeing only the Prince, the doctor, and a huge, bearded beast of a man standing by the door.
No Grandma. No smell of cinnamon and cherries.
No safety.
Three strange men. And me, mostly naked. Weak. Exposed. I suck in a breath, gripping the mug to stop my hands from trembling.
“You haven’t heard?” For the first time, the Prince’s voice holds a hint of surprise. I meet his eye, seeing a twitch in his eyebrow. His eyes flash, golden-brown gemstones looking predatory and warm all at once.
“Heard what?” I reply. “Your Highness,” I add as an afterthought. Am I supposed to curtsy? I’m not wearing any clothes.
He tilts his head, interest sparking across his face. “Your grandmother had a slip on the ice. She’s been transferred to the hospital in Stirling.”
“What? When? I spoke to her this morning.” I sit up, the blanket slipping. I catch it, but not before the Prince’s eyes flick down. I blush, warmth creeping up my neck as I claw the blanket back up my chest. I want clothing. I need dignity. Some scrap of power in this deeply unbalanced situation.
The Prince glances at the clock on the wall. “About six hours ago.”
“I was on the train. Flew into Stirling then took a train right away. I didn’t check my phone because reception was spotty and I was working…”
“You’re here to visit her, then? Where are your papers? I wasn’t able to find any security clearances or authorizations in your things.”
“You went through my things?” Heat spears my chest. My cheeks flush.
The Prince looks amused. “Among other things.” His eyes drift down the blankets covering my body, and my blush deepens.
He didn’t. He’s not… Did the Prince of Nord undress me?
Squeezing my eyes shut, I try to stop my heart from racing right out of my chest. No. No, no, no. No way. This wasn’t supposed to happen. This isn’t reality. It’s a dream. A nightmare. I’m dead. This is what death feels like. I pinch the inside of my arm, trying to wake myself up. I fell asleep on the train, and this is all some sort of hallucination.
I did not walk to the Summer Palace, get so cold I became severely hypothermic, and then have to be undressed by the Prince of freaking Nord. No way. Nun-uh. And Grandma isn’t in the hospital, and I’m not here all on my own. This isn’t happening.
My eyes snap open again, and I do my best to square my shoulders. “I’m here to work, Your Highness. I was engaged by the royal family to redesign the Summer Palace. This is my first site visit, where I intend to take photos of important features that will be retained, and go through the palace archives for original building drawings and survey information. I need them to finalize my design before approval by the Crown. Construction starts next summer.”
By some miracle, my voice doesn’t tremble. My heart, on the other hand, is thumping so hard I think my ribs might crack.
The Prince arches a brow. I hate that I amuse him. I hate that he looks at me like I’m some little plaything sent for his entertainment. I hate that I’m not wearing any clothes and that my body still feels cold, despite the warmth of the fire and the heat in my core.
My hands tremble, and I force myself to meet his gaze. “Is my grandmother okay?”
He dips his chin, and relief washes over me. “She’ll be fine. She broke her hip, but she’s stable. No need for surgery, but she’ll have a long recovery, considering her age. They tell me she probably won’t be back to the palace until spring.”
I let out a long breath. “Okay. Can I talk to her?”
“The cell tower is down. We have no reception, and the short-wave radio doesn’t reach that far south. There’s a satellite phone at the palace, but I doubt the hospital will let you speak to her until visiting hours tomorrow.” The Prince unfolds his long body to stand up. He towers over me, his golden eyes still glued to my face. “Once you’re recovered, you’ll report to me at the palace. The staff will bring some adequate clothing for you to wear.” He takes a step, then pauses beside the sofa. Leaning down, a cruel smirk crosses over his lips. “You’re not in Farcliff anymore, princess. Welcome to Nord.”
I inhale sharply and taste his scent. Woodsy. Strong. Like whiskey and fire. It makes my head spin, and I can’t manage to make my tongue work well enough to answer.
Instead, I just dip my chin and listen to his footsteps as he walks out. The door opens, sending a cold jet of air blasting through the lodge. When I glance over my shoulder, both he and the huge man by the door are gone.
The doctor gives me a tight smile. “Don’t mind him. He’s just… Well, never mind. He’s a complicated man and October is always difficult. Not used to being this far north when the weather is this bad.”
I sip my tea in silence for a while as the doctor takes my vitals. Glancing at the older man, I tilt my head. “Do you like it here?”
The doctor nods, shifting his gaze to my IV bag. “There’s a certain kind of magic in the isolation up here. I don’t mind it. Your grandmother likes it.”
My throat feels tight as the reality of my situation closes in on me. “Will she be okay?”
“She’s strong. She’ll be fine,” Doctor Williams replies, shifting his kind eyes to mine. “She was lucky to get out when she did, so we should all be grateful for small mercies. This is going to be a big storm. We’ll be shut in for at least a week. Maybe longer.”
“A week?” My eyes widen.
“It’s safer that way. Even here, at the security lodge, we can get cut off from the main castle in whiteout conditions.” He glances out the window. “As soon as you’re strong enough to move, we’ll have to head back. Soon would be preferable. Your IV fluids should be done in ten minutes, then we’ll head back.”
I knew what I was getting into when I agreed to this job. Grandma warned me about the cold. She warned me that people get cabin fever if they don’t adapt to the loneliness and isolation. Told me to plan for a short visit, so the harshness of the arctic wouldn’t have time to get to me.
But nothing could have prepared me for this.
Wrapping the blankets around my body, and ignoring the doctor’s protests, I wheel my IV pole to the window and glance out. Even through thick, double-glazed panes, the cold bites through the glass. I watch wind whip little tornadoes of snow and frost over the desolate landscape, as if every ice crystal is dancing in some complicated choreography.
The palace sits between two huge mountain ridges, their tops obscured by the clouds. This looks like another planet. I took a train to Nord and landed on Mars.
I think of Gerry, and the way he’d throw a blanket over my legs when I spent hours reading on the sofa. Was that really so bad? Did I really feel stifled, or was I just a spoiled little girl who thought she wanted to have it all?
The black castle looms in the distance, its windows yawning yellow with light. I shiver, but not from the cold. The windows are the same color as the Prince’s eyes. Pale amber, like his namesake.
Wolfe.
I wonder if he’s a predator, too. If he sees me as prey. If my time at the castle will be one long hunt, and this was all just a terrible, terrible mistake.
But then I remember the way his eyes drifted to my lips. How his gaze sent warmth spiraling through my core when he let me know he’d undressed me. How for the first time in a long time, I feel alive.
Maybe it’s the after-effects of a near-death experience. It’s what happens when someone is severely hypothermic and comes back to life. You start imagining things that aren’t there. You imagine heat that doesn’t exist. You get confused and your mind plays tricks on you.
That’s what’s happening. My body is responding to delusions.
I turn away from the window, slumping back down on the sofa. The doctor places a bundle of warm clothes on the seat next to me. “Put those on. As soon as you’re strong enough, we’ll move you to the castle. The staff has prepared your room.”
I stare at the clothes, then shift my gaze to the window. Excitement pierces my gut, and I know it’s not from the near-death experience.
This is real. The Prince is here.
And I’m stuck at the palace whether I like it or not.
