Heir Untamed (6 page)

“If you don't take any pictures, no one will ever know you were there but me anyway, and I promise not to tell.” He winked over his shoulder.

“You know, you almost seem normal.” Chey blurted the thought before it had time to run through the filter between her brain and her mouth. Cringing, she braced herself for his anger.

Instead, Mattias laughed. Leading her out of the library, he padded along the floor with a languid, unhurried stride. “We're people, above all things, with feelings and emotions and whatever else. I might be Royalty, but I'm not untouchable.”

“You all seem that way. Or you did when I was taking the photos. I guess it's just status. You have loads, I have none.” Chey paced at his flank, eyes ahead on the hallway and not aside on his back. Safer that way.

“We're born what we are. Some of us have no choice but to follow the course expected of us.”

“Well. I mean, you
could
decide you didn't want to be a Royal and go live elsewhere. Right? That's still your choice.” Chey rounded the corner when Mattias did, heading down a restricted hallway. Already her skin started to prickle with nerves.

“That's where duty and honor step in. I
could,
but where does that leave my family? Where does that leave the people of this fine country who believe in us? Our ancestors lived and died to make this a country we could be proud of—and I am
very
proud of our country—and I would not consider abandoning the duty of carrying on.” He glanced aside, a brow arched.

Chey chewed in the inside of her lip. She realized just how outclassed she was, how small in comparison to his position. It was quite a shocking revelation to comprehend the gap of separation. At the same time, standing next to him in his half clothed state—he seemed like any other man.

Meeting his gaze, Chey tilted her head in a way that said she understood. Mostly. “I get it. About honor and duty. At least as much as I'm able to coming from the background I have. Family is important, but we only answer to ourselves and those we come in contact with. It's not like we have an entire country to think about as well.”

“Some think it a burden, and it can be. At times, I wish nothing more than to sink into the ranks of the unknown, so that I may move about the world without a camera always in my face. Yet there is no other position I would like to hold than to be second in line to the throne.” Mattias guided her through another turn, and another, entering a short hallway with double french doors at the end.

“I don't think the first in line was at the photo shoot today,” she said, fishing for a little more information. “In fact, two of your brothers were absent, yes?”

“Mm, yes. Dare, who will be crowned King when father passes, has been...set up to meet a woman mother dearly wishes he would consider taking to wife. They were in Italy last I heard. Gunnar, the youngest brother, returns tomorrow from vacation with his wife, Krislin. Otherwise, you've met Paavo and me as well as our sister, Natalia.”

“I'm never going to keep all this straight,” Chey muttered.

Mattias chuckled and opened one of the french doors, allowing her to enter first. “Dare, Mattias, Paavo, Gunnar and Natalia. Easy.”

Chey repeated the names under her breath as she stepped from the castle into the secretive, walled garden.

. . .

She understood immediately why the garden was the queen's favorite, and why it was off limits to everyone else. Stepping into the walled space was like stepping into Eden. Chey guessed it was a half an acre, impressive considering it was attached to the castle itself, with cobbled walkways, extensive foliage and stone fountains in the shape of cherubs. Water burbled from each one, and from a meandering creek that fed into a small pond. Tiny white lights decorated trees, adding a whimsical flare.

Right away, Chey brought the camera up to snap a few shots. If Mattias brought her here to begin with, she doubted he would say anything about the photos. He didn't. He paced alongside, hands behind his back, watching both her and the surroundings.

Chey could see his attention swing out and then back every few steps.

“It's really beautiful. I can see why they love it so.” She stepped over a small bridge that straddled the creek to get a shot of a gazebo smothered in vines and tiny pink flowers.

“I suppose. Personally, I prefer more rugged pursuits.” Mattias sounded unimpressed with the garden.

“Such as?” Chey swung the camera around and snapped off a shot of Mattias framed by the castle, just about to cross the bridge.

His gaze met the camera, enigmatic and as secretive as the garden they stood in.

Chey lowered the camera and smiled. “I figure Viia will enjoy that as much as you will enjoy the ones I take of her.”

His lips ticked into a somewhat wry smile. “Perhaps she will.”

“Stop there on the bridge and I'll take another. That's a great shot.” Chey pointed with a finger right where she wanted him. To her surprise, Mattias complied. He leaned a sleek hip against the arching rail, slid his hands into the pockets of the lounge pants and crossed one bare foot over the other.

He was the picture of a rake, dark hair sweeping his brow. Even in repose, Mattias commanded the same sense of animal magnetism and regal bearing as he had earlier, dressed in his fine suit.

Chey tried to capture that aspect of him, though really, she thought to herself, it wasn't hard when Mattias exuded it with such ease.

“What the
hell
do you think you're doing?” a feminine voice snapped from the shadows.

Startled, Chey lowered the camera. Natalia stood on the footpath, tumbler in her fingers, glaring straight at Chey. She wore a diaphanous gown of white that lapped at her ankles and scooped low on her chest.

It didn't take Chey but a second to realize Natalia was six sheets to the wind. Not drunk enough to stagger or slur, but drunk nevertheless.

“I'm--” Chey, about to explain, got cut off by Mattias.

“She's with me. Stay your tongue, sister,” Mattias said, warning clear in his tone.

Natalia never looked away from Chey. She pointed a finger around the glass. “She is
not
supposed to be here. What will mother say?”

“She will marvel over the pictures of her favorite private place.” Mattias stepped away from the rail, sliding his hands out of his pockets. When he glanced at Chey, there was a message easily read in his dark eyes:
Do not ever speak of what you see
here.

Chey nodded and crossed the bridge back to the other side.

“
Our
private place! She's violated it and now we can never come here without wondering if she's skulking in the shadows, taking pictures of us!” Natalia screeched in fury, her beautiful face torqued into a mask of disdain. Cocking her arm back, she hurled the glass at Chey's head.

Mattias shot a hand out, but wasn't quick enough to block the hurtling tumbler.

Lucky for Chey, she'd been watching the altercation like a hawk, and ducked her head away from the projectile. Glass shattered against the edge of a fountain. Shards rained over the cobbled walk like bits of diamond. Shocked at the woman's anger, Chey made eye contact once more with Mattias, who had been scowling at his sister. He inclined his head toward the double doors, indicating it was high time to leave.

“Don't you
ever
come here again!” Natalia shouted.

Chey departed the garden with quick strides, concerned that Natalia's bellow would bring the guards. Breaking into a trot, she found her way along the private corridor, sure that someone was going to catch her here by herself and raise the alarm.

The hallways, so far, were empty.

Chey made it back to the main hall, which was common ground for her, and breathed a sigh of relief. Taking the stairs at a jog, she headed for her bedroom, wondering if Natalia's drinking was routine. Mattias hadn't seemed surprised to find her inebriated. In fact, his whole demeanor had become one of spare tolerance, as if he had to deal with it more often than he preferred.

In the safety of her bedroom, Chey closed the door and leaned against it, out of breath from the stairs.

What a way to end her first full day in the Royal castle.

Hopefully, it wouldn't be her last.

Chapter Four

The little hidden lake at sunrise was spectacular. Chey stood behind the tripod, lining up a stunning shot lengthwise across the water. She'd risen at dawn and hit the stables right after, intending on capturing the photos she wanted despite the previous day, and the previous evening's events.

Tugging habitually on the hem of the pale blue sweater she wore over jeans, Chey straightened out a wrinkle in the material before turning the tripod a click to the left. It gave her a whole other vantage with a different section of the lake to focus on.

Behind her, tied to a tree stump, the buckskin mare nibbled grass, tail swishing flies away from her flanks.

All in all it was a peaceful morning. A good way to start the day. Later, after lunch, Chey had another photo shoot with the family. This, however, was her time, and she put it to good use.

Worried over the garden escapade, she refused to dwell on it. She knew Mattias would keep their confidence.

The question was—would Natalia? She would have to admit being drunk and unruly, though perhaps that wasn't unusual and no one would care.

“You're up early,” a masculine voice said behind her.

Chey yelped and nearly knocked her camera over. She caught the tripod as it started to tilt and fall. A hand shot past her to catch it, too, leaving her entire right side pressed up against Sander's.

“...don't sneak up on people like that! I almost ruined a very expensive camera.” Annoyed, she got the tripod upright—with his help—and stepped far enough away that she could swing around and glare at him without their bodies touching.

He had his hair pulled back into a low tail this morning, the ends brushing the collar of a palomino suede coat. He wore layers beneath: steel gray flannel and a white tee shirt. He'd left the zipper and buttons undone so that the white showed all the way to the waist of his jeans. Boots that matched the suede, engraved with a brogue design on the the arch and the toe, completed his attire.

Chey took all that in with a quick sweep of his person.

“I wouldn't have let it fall. Didn't you hear me coming? You should pay more attention to your surroundings,” he countered in a blasé tone.

“I'm sorry. I'm busy with
work.
You know, that thing you should be doing? I have no doubt you've gotten all the information on me, so you know I'm allowed to be here.” Chey huffed and stepped back behind the camera.

Now she was distracted.

Fantastic.

“Are you always this bitchy?” he asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

Chey straightened again, set a hand on her hip, and gave him a withering look. “I'm not bitchy. You're simply impossible to deal with.”

“Most women think I'm charming.”

“Well, I'm not most women.”

“Really.” It wasn't a question.

“What is it you want, exactly, Mister Fisk?” Chey hoped she put enough irritation in her voice to make him hurry along. The way he looked her over just then was one hundred percent male. Annoyed that it made her skin prickle and hear heart pick up speed, she narrowed her eyes and glared.

“To let you know where you may and may not go. To the lake, the creek dividing the property on
this
side, but no further into the forest. And not at all on the east side.” He pronged his fingers and held his arm out in the direction she was not allowed to wander. His eyes never left hers.

“But I'm supposed to capture the countryside--”

“
Not
beyond the lake or the creek, and not at all to the east,” he repeated with an edge to his voice. “Capture as much of the countryside over here as you like.”

“Why?” Chey wanted answers.

“Because I said so, and since I'm head of security, you'll do as I say.” He crossed his arms over his chest once more, staring at her like he dared her to defy him.

Chey flashed her palms at him in the traditional sign of surrender. If he was going to be
that
adamant, she wouldn't push it. “All right, all right. I won't wander beyond those--”

A gunshot ripped through the early morning mist.

Close enough to be easily heard, yet far enough not to be directly in their vicinity.

Before the echo died, Chey found herself on her back, flattened by Sander. She gasped, the wind knocked from her lungs, staring up at him with his suddenly sharp eyes, thin mouth and predatory air. He snapped looks across the lake, in every direction, even behind them.

“Was that a--”

“Yes,” he hissed, then brought a finger to rest against her lips. In effect silencing her. When he glanced down, he conveyed his wish for her to be quiet. Danger, he told her without speaking a word, lurked in the forest with them.

Chey shuddered beneath him. Every breath she took was laced with the scent of him; sandalwood, musk and spice, a subtle note of amber and leather oil. She felt every contour of his muscular body, from his toned chest to the cut of his abdomen and the thick pressure of his thighs.

There was no way she could get up, even if she wanted to.

Reaching back, he dug out his phone. After another sweep of the area, he glanced down at the face while he thumbed over the surface.

Chey couldn't see what he typed. It was brief, that was all she knew, because he used one finger and only for a few moments. Code, perhaps, sent to other cell phones to put people on alert.

He ducked when another shot rang through the day. Breath hot on her throat, he spoke there near her ear.

“We're going to leave here. Stay low, follow me and follow my lead. Do
not
stand up, and do not speak.”

Chey nodded her understanding rather than agree vocally. He wanted her silent, she would be silent. Fear licked along her spine and spread out through her limbs. Someone was shooting—but at who? Them? The thought made her blood run cold. Surely it was just a mistake, someone out shooting at birds or engaged in target practice.