Heir Untamed (16 page)

“No. We're better than twelve miles from our starting point.” He picked up the cooler and gestured the other direction.

Chey spotted a medium sized parking lot with a shiny, new white truck waiting in a slot. “You've thought of everything, haven't you?”

He led her toward the truck. “It pays to think ahead. We wouldn't make it back to my cabin before dark, and out here, you don't want to wander around with the creatures of the night.”

At the truck, he lifted the cooler into the back with little effort. Taking the bag from her once she reached him, he set that in the back and unlocked the doors with a number code instead of keys.

“I've heard wolves before. Is that what you mean?” She climbed into the passenger seat and closed her door.

“Yes. Normally they won't attack humans, but why take the chance.” He started the engine and backed out of the space. “There are bears this deep in the woods, too. And you definitely don't want to run across a mother with her cub.”

Chey fastened her belt and watched Sander rather than the appealing terrain they drove through. He handled the truck with confidence and familiar ease. There were damp spots on his shirt and pants from her flap with the paddle, bringing a grin to her lips.

He glanced over just in time to see it. “What?”

“Nothing.”

“You're staring.”

“And you're not watching the road.”

He swerved back onto the dirt lane when the tire rumbled over a rough patch of small rocks to the side.

“Then quit distracting me.”

She laughed. “I didn't do anything!”

“You're staring.” He glared playfully sideways, then put his attention forward.

Chey wanted to tell him that he couldn't find it a surprise. Surely many women stared when they were in his presence. He was so casual, so self-contained. And he had chest and shoulders to die for. No, Chey was certain Sander Fisk was not immune to extra attention from women.

“Is that uncommon?” Chey could be counted upon to speak her mind, at least.

“No,” he retorted with wolfish charm.

“Then why are you surprised?”

“Because it's you. You don't seem like the staring type.”

“What type do you think I am?”

“The type to come over here and do something about it.” A rasp laced itself through his words, as appealing as the seductive glance he leveled across the cab at her.

Oh, he was a brazen bastard.

And he was absolutely right. She
was
the type to take action when the desire arose. Under the right circumstances, Chey could be forward and blunt.

Her belt came loose with a quiet click.

He cut his eyes to their corners, a quick check, before finding the road.

Scooting across the bench seat, she cupped her hand on the other side of his whiskered jaw and set her teeth to the nearest, scraping her way to a kiss. His stubble tickled her skin, not an unpleasant sensation.

“Can you kiss and drive at the same time?” she asked before slanting her mouth over his. Chey caved to the attraction between them and slipped her tongue past his lips. She had nothing to lose and everything to gain. He wanted it, or he wouldn't have goaded her into action.

He applied the brakes steadily and wrapped one hand in her hair, switching from passive participant to sudden aggressor. Sliding his tongue over hers, he kissed her thoroughly, dipping into the hollows behind her teeth and along the roof of her mouth. He kissed her like a man skilled in the art of passion, who knew exactly what he wanted and meant to take it.

Chey would have sworn the temperature in the truck rose a hundred degrees in seconds. Breathless, she nipped his lip and eased back enough to see his eyes. He searched hers with a predatory gleam, fingers giving her hair a testing tug. Automatically, she moved her head to counter, just to see what he would do. He increased the grip and brought her mouth to his, changing the angle, his other hand gliding down her ribs to her hip.

Lost in the heat and friction, Chey didn't so much as twitch when he slid his hand under the hem of her shirt and found skin. Sander made it easy to want him, to throw caution to the wind and give in. He was all male, solid and strong, with a subtle scent of masculine cologne tickling her senses. The river left its mark on his clothes, as well as the trees and sand, adding something untamed and wild to his skin. When he groaned, she swallowed it and returned a more feminine version of her own.

Breaking the kiss, he teethed her lip and pressed a whisper there. “My cabin?”

“Yes.”

. . .

Carrying her with one arm around her hips, like she weighed nothing, Sander toted her from the truck to the front door of the cabin. Chey, arms wrapped around his neck, barely registered that the horses were tethered to the post alongside the structure as he unlocked the front door. Feet dangling a half foot off the ground, she tongued his jaw, his ear, his throat. Each glide earned her a groan or a growl, encouraging her to do it all over again. Under her palms, his muscles flexed and shifted, causing her to knead circles across his back and shoulder.

Nudging the door closed with the heel of his boot, he tossed his keys negligently aside and skimmed her shirt up her body. The peeling of layers came as he drove her backward: shoes and socks, shirts and pants, bra and boxers. He was as glorious naked as she imagined he would be, all sinew and hard strength. Clasping an arm around her waist, he carried her like that into what must have once been the King's old bedroom. Periphery picked out all the details because she didn't want to stop kissing him long enough to take a good look.

A high ceiling wrought with heavy beams arched over a large room with several windows in two walls. The massive bed sat to the left with other sturdy furniture flanking a stone fireplace that ran floor to ceiling.

Laying her down on the mattress, he covered her with kisses from her navel to her throat, and slid between her thighs with an experienced slice of his pelvis. He gave no quarter, the way he loved her, consuming all of her with his demanding mouth, strong hands and stronger hips. Pounding her into submission, he swallowed her lusty cries and fed her a snarl of his own at the end. She thought it sounded suspiciously like her name.

Sweat covered and boneless, Chey recovered from the bliss wrapped in his arms, legs tangled endlessly. Every now and then, a stray spasm shook her. He squeezed her tighter against him, kissed her temple, then turned just his shoulders flush with the bed. Raking a hand through his damp hair, he stared at the peaked ceiling.

“Penny for your thoughts,” she ventured, kissing his chest. He looked like a fallen God, honed and golden skinned.

“I'm wondering how much of a ripple it would cause in the castle if you spent the night here.”

“Well, they said I could come and go as I please when I'm not photographing the Royals--” It dawned on Chey then that she had plans for the evening. Sitting straight up, she glanced at the windows to gauge the time. From the sharp slant of the sun, she guessed it was late afternoon. Four, maybe five o'clock. Oh
crap.
She was supposed to be getting ready for the dinner this evening with Mattias. Did she even want to go? It didn't matter. She couldn't just stand Mattias up, not after the shopping trip. Never mind she'd agreed to go.

“What's wrong?” he asked, voice alluringly raspy.

“Actually, as much as I'd like to stay, I can't. I just remembered I have something to do this evening.” Chey gave him an apologetic glance and leaned over to kiss him. He grunted but returned it.

“Plans?”

“Sort of. I promised someone I'd be there at the castle this evening. Or trust me, I'd stay.” She smiled down into his face.

He cocked a brow, obviously curious at what she wasn't saying. “All right.”

“We're still on for tomorrow, right? Where am I supposed to meet you again? I can come here if you want. I know my way well enough now.” She kissed him once more before sliding out of bed. With every inch she put between them, Chey regretted having to leave more and more. Things felt good between her and Sander. She wanted to explore him, spend time getting to know his habits.

Aware his gaze followed her every movement, she picked her clothes up off the floor and started pulling them on.

Sander, as lazy as a lion basking in the sun, arched a hand behind his head and set the other on his stomach. The sheets barely covered his hips.

“Sure, meet me here. Remember that you need to act like everything is normal at the castle, hm? Don't give the game away. And don't be surprised if you notice someone tailing you at a distance when you come and go. I've got a few men discreetly following you, just in case. The mare's outside, but you can take the truck to the castle if you need to get there faster.”

His willingness to work with her, and not antagonize her for leaving so abruptly, endeared Sander to her. Once she had her clothes and shoes on, she set a knee to the mattress and leaned over to brush another kiss across his mouth.

“Thank you. I'll take the truck. Can I just drive it back tomorrow? I love riding the mare, but I think I feel safer with the vehicle.”

He kissed her, a lingering press of lips. “Of course. Don't worry about the horse. I'll see to it she gets back to the stables tonight.”

“Excellent. I'll see you tomorrow evening, then.”

He caught her around the nape and hauled her down for a more thorough kiss. Then he released her. “Go on, get out of here before I forget all my good intentions and drag you back into bed.”

Laughing, Chey pinched his stomach hard enough to make him grunt and swat at her hand. “
Maybe
I'd let you.”

“Maybe?” He arched a brow like she'd just issued a challenge.

Chey eased off the bed before he followed through and snagged her. “Okay, probably. I'd probably let you,” she teased. “I'll see you tomorrow.”

He said nothing in the way of goodbye, but the hot look he leveled on her gave Chey goosebumps. Raiding his pants for keys, she left him there with a last glance back. Then she hurried out the door to the truck, aware time was ticking off the clock.

She had a Royal party to attend.

Chapter Ten

At precisely seven o'clock, Chey answered a subtle knock at her door. Expecting to see Mattias on the other side, she swung it wide, a smile in place. Elise stood there in her typical uniform, a box in her hands. The maid looked surprised to see Chey dressed in such elaborate finery.

“Oh, Miss, did I disturb you? I have a delivery,” Elise said with another glance at Chey's gown.

“No, I thought you were someone else. What's this and who is it from?” she asked, taking the box from Elise's fingers. It was blue, almost exactly the same color as her dress. A sheer white bow sat on top.

“I do not know, Miss. Mister Urmas sent me to deliver it and to tell you that you are to meet him at the end of the hallway in five minutes.”

Chey smiled at Elise. “Perfect, thank you.”

Elise returned the smile and added a conspiratorial whisper. “You look very beautiful. Good evening.”

“Thank you. Good evening, Elise.” Chey waited until the maid was gone before opening the lid to the box. Nestled inside on a bed of pale blue velvet was a diamond solitaire on a delicate silver chain. The princess cut diamond, three or four carats at least, sparkled and shined. Chey gasped. Had Mattias loaned her this so she would blend in with the company better?

Hurrying to the vanity, she set the box down and fastened the necklace around her throat. The clasp was easy to latch and felt secure once she was done. An exquisite addition to the outfit, she admired its beauty for several minutes, stunned that Mattias would entrust her with such a thing. It offset the corset style bodice of the gown perfectly, adding just enough elegance without being gaudy.

Smoothing her palms over the snug fit of the gown, she assessed herself in the mirror one last time. Her make up, applied with a bit heavier hand to help cover the bruise, accentuated her eyes with dusky shadow and smudges of kohl. On her cheeks, a tint of rose rouge which matched a subtle stroke of matte color on her lips. The dress fit like a dream, nipping in at her narrow waist and hugging her curves toward her feet, where the hem flared just so over her shoes. Dark and curled into soft waves, the front of her hair had been affixed atop her head with a clip, the rest left to cascade down her back.

For a moment, Chey lamented that Sander couldn't see her like this. She was always in jeans and sweaters, clothing fitting to keep the chill of late fall at bay.

She didn't think she'd ever dressed so fine for any occasion.

Aware of the time, she left her room, locking the door behind her, and joined Urmas at the end of the hallway. He did a classic double take when he saw her.

Did the man even know she was attending the soiree? Or had Mattias kept it a secret from even the liaison, bent on making a surprise of her presence?

“...Miss Sinclair, I do say, you look stunning. Is there something I should know?” Urmas sounded complimentary and also wary. Dressed in a typical, subtle suit, he offered his elbow as he'd been born and bred to do.

“I don't know. Is there?” She smiled up into his face and slid her hand through the crook of his arm. Instead of asking him where he was escorting her, she acted like she already knew. She suspected Urmas was to escort her to some parlor or another, where Mattias would be waiting.

Urmas narrowed his eyes and grunted. He led her along the hall and as she'd guessed, guided her toward one of the formal sitting rooms available to guests staying on this floor of the castle. When they arrived at the doors, which were both open, Chey saw Mattias standing near the roaring fireplace with a glass of wine in hand. She wouldn't be human, or female, not to notice how fine he filled out his clothes. Looking straight off the cover of GQ, dark hair combed carefully back from his face, he was freshly shaven and sported an expensive looking set of cuff links, a silver tie and a silver watch that screamed money and power.

Mattias spoke without looking over at the doorway. “Thank you, Urmas. You may go.”