Ian's Ultimate Gamble - Brenda Jackson [61]
"And just clueless the other half, I guess," he said, looking bemused. The arrogance of the man was really galling.
"I suppose you think your 'royalness' is so obvious it sort of shimmers around you for all to see?" she challenged. "Or better yet, oozes from your pores like... like sweat on a hot day?"
"Something like that," he acknowledged calmly. "Most people tumble to it pretty quickly. In fact, it's hard to hide even when I want to avoid dealing with it."
"Poor baby," she said, still resenting his manner. "I guess that works better with injured people who are half asleep." Looking at him, she felt a strange emotion she couldn't identify. It was as though she wanted to prove something to him, but she wasn't sure what. "And anyway, you know you did your best to fool me," she added.
His brows knit together as though he really didn't know what she was talking about. "I didn't do a thing."
"You told me your name was Monty."
"It is." He shrugged. "I have a lot of names. Some of them are too rude to be spoken to my face. I'm sure." He glanced at her sideways, his hand on the hilt of his saber. "Perhaps you're contemplating one of those right now."
You bet I can.
That was what she would like to say. But it suddenly occurred to her that she was supposed to be working for this man. If she wanted to keep the job of coronation chef, maybe she'd better keep her opinions to herself. So she clamped her mouth shut, took a deep breath and looked away, trying hard to calm down.
The elevator ground to a halt and the doors slid open laboriously. She moved to step forward, hoping to make her escape, but his hand shot out again and caught her elbow.
"Wait a minute. You're a woman," he said, as though that thought had just presented itself to him.
"That's a rare ability for insight you have there. Your Highness." she snapped before she could stop herself. And then she winced. She was going to have to do better than that if she was going to keep this relationship on an even keel.
But he was ignoring her dig. Nodding, he stared at her with a speculative gleam in his golden eves. "I've been looking for a woman, but you'll do."
She blanched, stiffening. "I'll do for what?"
He made a head gesture in a direction she knew was opposite of where she was going and his grip tightened on her elbow.
"Come with me," he said abruptly, making it an order.
She dug in her heels, thinking fast. She didn't much like orders. "Wait! I can't. I have to get to the kitchen."
"Not yet. I need you."
"You what?" Her breathless gasp of surprise was soft, but she knew he'd heard it.
"I need you." he said firmly. "Oh, don't look so shocked. I'm not planning to throw you into the hay and have my way with you. I need you for something a bit more mundane than that."
She felt color rushing into her cheeks and she silently begged it to stop Here she was, formless and stodgy in her chefs whites. No makeup, no stiletto heels. Hardly the picture of the femmes fatales he was undoubtedly used to. The likelihood that he would have any carnal interest in her was remote at best. To have him think she was hysterically defending her virtue was humiliating.
"Well, what if I don't want to go with you'?" she said in hopes of deflecting his attention from her blush.
"Too bad." "What?"
Amusement sparkled in his eyes. He was certainly enjoying this. And that only made her more determined to resist him.
"I'm the prince, remember? And we're in the castle. My orders take precedence. It's that old pesky divine rights thing."
Her jaw jutted out. Despite her embarrassment, she couldn't let that pass. "Over my free will? Never!"
Exasperation tilled his face.
"Hey call out the historians. Someone will write a book about you and your courageous principles." His eyes glittered sardonically. "But in the meantime, Emma Valentine, you're coming with me."
ISBN: 1-55254-551-2
LAN'S ULTIMATE GAMBLE
Copyright © 2006 by Brenda Streater Jackson
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction