Chapter 21

Charlotte

Only a fool in love will fall right back in bed with the man set on betraying her.

Allow him to touch her.

Command her.

Say you love me.

I love you.

My only consolation to my pride is that I woke up before he did and left my room, but I also had breakfast sent up.

Such. A. Fool.

I sit down on the bench next to the small ornamental pond I had created to look exactly like the one in St. Claire. The heady perfume of flowers fill the air, goldfish swim happily under lily pads, and butterflies gracefully land on petals.

The perfect setting for me to reflect on what my punishment should be for falling, once again, for a man who only wanted what my title could bring him. It’s worse this time, because I love Brooks. Love him so much that my heart aches. Being pregnant with his child makes me happy and weepy.

“Get up, Princess Charlotte.” Something cold presses to the back of my neck and my heart slams against my chest. Adrenaline shoots through my body, but I don’t move.

I don’t call for Peter’s help, either.

Instead I count to five, visualizing every move I will make, even down to the final one where I will stand, triumphant, with one foot on my would-be assassin’s chest.

A rough hand clamps down on my shoulder, squeezing tight. “I said get up.”

I grab his hand and turn at the same time, twisting his fingers and shoving his wrist backward. He doesn’t expect me to fight back, so the element of surprise is on my side when I fling out my arm and hit him directly in the throat.

He staggers back, grasping at his neck and wheezing.

I smile.

Peter will be so proud.

Just as I prepare for move three, a roar fills the air. Brooks appears out of nowhere, launching himself at my attacker. They topple to the ground like a pile of stones, hitting hard and making dust rise.

Brooks leans back, taking a punch and landing one of his own. He flips the attacker over in a move that can only mean he knows what he’s doing, and they start fighting again. Which means that either he or Peter will get hurt very badly.

“Stop! Stop!” I run to them, grabbing Peter by the arm and trying to drag him away.

Brooks looks up at me, his lip bleeding and his shirt torn at the shoulder. He’s breathing hard. “What the fuck are you doing?”

I grab the top of Peter’s face mask and rip it off. “Practicing.”

Brooks narrows his eyes. “Trying to get killed?”

“No, this is how Peter and I practice the Ymladd Iscuitt.”

He gives me a blank look, then his eyes fill with fury, blazing at Peter and me. “You allowed her to do this while she’s pregnant?”

“I’m under her command, Mr. Walker,” Peter says. “Besides, a pregnant woman needs to be able to defend herself.”

Brooks opens his mouth and then closes it, his jaw working. I don’t think he’s ever been this furious…or, is that terror in his gaze as well? I won’t let myself be swayed by that. Won’t let myself be swayed by the fact that when he thought I was being attacked, he simply attacked back.

Tried to save me.

Tried to protect me.

My heart flutters.

“It also helps keep me in shape.”

Brooks swings his gaze to me and Peter shakes his head.

“So does walking. Try it sometime,” Brooks snaps. He stands up, brushing off his jeans. I can’t help but notice the wince when he attempts to right his shirt, or the small limp when he starts to walk away.

“You’re hurt,” I say. “Let me help you.”

“I’m hurt because of you.” He swipes his hand over his mouth. “I can help myself.”

“Do you know how to get back to my room from here?” I ask as Peter bows and fades into the shadows.

Brooks pauses by the door leading to the inner courtyard. “Mostly.”

I rush to him, gently taking him by the arm. “Let’s try the second door, shall we? The walk back is a bit quicker than going through the middle of the palace.”

“Thanks,” he says grudgingly.

“You were very good. Peter is an expert.”

“Spent a year in Israel, trained under a master of Krav Maga.”

“What led you to do that?”

“Because after my year there, I planned to go to places where it would be beneficial.”

“Are you a danger junkie?”

He gives me a wan smile. “It’s adrenaline junkie, and not really. I thought it would legitimize my work.”

“And that’s very important to you.”

He doesn’t answer me because the answer is obvious. His work is the most important thing in his life. It is his entire life.

“Is that why you had all that information on my sister and me, on the rest of my siblings as well?”

“Yes and no.”

I frown. “It can’t be both.”

“Based on your very general question, yes it can.”

“Then teach me what to ask, Mr. Walker.”

We enter my room and he breaks away from me. He all but rips off his shirt, treating me to the sight of his ripped abs and broad shoulders. Dark bruises are blooming under his skin in the shape of Peter-size fists.

“You poor thing,” I croon at him, forgetting the reasons why I should stop being foolish and continue to question him.

He pushes me away. Gently, but it’s still a push all the same.

I stagger back. “I only want to help.”

“I know you do, sweetheart, but my ego has taken a hit.”

“But Peter didn’t best you.”

“Not that portion of my ego.”

“Oh, you mean the one that thought I was being attacked and attempted to protect me.”

“Bingo.” He stalks to my bathroom and begins to wash his face while I move to the doorway. I stand there, watching him. “A better question to me would be: How did that information come into your possession?”

“You don’t want to wait until your ego is better until we do this?”

“Nope.”

Fine. “Right, then. How did you get your info?”

“Two days after you left New York City, your old prime minister showed up at my apartment with two goons. He gave me the envelope and threatened my company.”

My eyes widen and anger churns inside of me. “Davies is responsible?”

“Yeah, and if you’d bothered to stick around instead of leaving me, I would have told you that.” He tosses the washcloth into the hamper. “I’ve always been truthful with you. You knew I wanted your secrets.”

He’s right, yet he could have told me about Davies’s visit, about the envelope…about making me feel like he’d taken advantage of my trust. “You have not. A truthful man would have told me about the envelope in the first place.”

He picks bits of dirt out of his light, thick hair, then pivots, leaning against the vanity. He crosses his muscular arms over his chest and my pulse quickens. “He was a potential source, Charlotte. I don’t reveal those, not even to you. And not to change the subject, but you didn’t exactly come clean about the pregnancy. In fact, you did the opposite.”

I bristle at his accusation. “I did not send that text.”

His lips smash together. “Fine, let’s say I believe you, but the truth remains that you were keeping it a secret from me. I had no idea when I got here, and to learn about it, in front of your entire family…fuck, Princess, I felt like an asshole who deserted you. Your brothers thought that about me, too. It’s one thing for people to hate me for telling the truth, but for them to think the worst of me over a lie…that’s low, Charlotte.”

Guilt begins to burst through my anger. “I will get them sorted today.”

He smirks. “I’ve already sorted Theo.”

“That’s good?”

“Only if you think calling for a family meeting over dinner is a good outcome,” he says.

“Oh dear.”

“Thought you’d think that.” He shakes his head, uncrossing his arms and checking his mouth again. “Son of a bitch,” he whispers.

“It won’t stop?”

“Not your concern.”

With a huff, I move to him and make him turn around. “Let me see.” I frown, lifting my gaze to his. “It’s not bleeding. Are you in pain elsewhere?” I lightly touch his face, then his shoulders and chest, careful to mind the bruises. What a bloody stupid question to ask him.

“I’m in pain, all right.” He captures my wrist in his hand. “I never read the contents of the envelope, not until you put it out there for me.”

“Why?”

“Because I had an attack of conscience.”

“Over me?” He nods, his blue eyes vulnerable for once. “Because you really do care about me?”

“I more than care, Charlotte.”

“Because I’m pregnant.”

“I had no idea that you were when I made the decision to fly out here,” he reminds me. “My only thought was to get to you, help you. Save you from this life.”

“By marrying me,” I say flatly. Not because he loves me. He can’t admit it, even after saving me.

“Take my last name, Princess. We can leave and you can have your freedom.”

My heart falls to my toes. “You don’t understand me at all.”

“I understand that you’re the most stubborn woman I know. You have to marry me now.” His gaze drops to my stomach and then bounces back to my face. “I can’t have a kid who doesn’t know me, doesn’t know my parents…and I sure as hell don’t want him or her locked up in a castle for the rest of its life, either, like its mother.”

The urge to slap him makes my palm itch. “The answer is no.”

He smiles grimly. “We’ll see about that.”

I toss my head. “I very much doubt that. You command me in the bedroom, but outside of that, I outrank you and nearly everyone else here.”

“I don’t bow to royalty, Charlotte. Or haven’t you noticed that I’m an American?”

“Oooh, you…” I stop touching him and step back, tipping up my chin. “When it’s time for bed tonight, you are not allowed to touch me.”

“Don’t worry, Princess. I won’t point out that you’re not only letting me sleep with you but that you didn’t issue a decree that prevents you from touching me…unless you want to amend that?” He raises a brow when I don’t answer right away. “That’s right, I command you in the bedroom, not the other way around.”

“You are infuriating,” I all but growl at him. “I don’t know what I saw in you.”

That cocky smile of his appears as his hand shoots out and drags me back to him, enveloping me in his arms. “What you saw, you wanted, and I gave it to you. Over and over again.”

Closing my eyes, I attempt to ignore the feel of him, the way he smells so mouth-wateringly good, and how idiotically turned on I am.

“That was very kind of you,” I say.

“C’mon, Princess, we don’t have to resort to insults.” He nibbles on my ear. “Don’t have to resort to anything except taking you to bed. Since it’s not bedtime, I’ll do all the work, make you come. All you have to do is lie there and take what I give you, like the sweet girl you are.”

I shiver in his arms, tempted as anything to allow it. “No. I have things to do.”

“I’m first on the list.” He propels me out of the bathroom and comes around me, lifting me easily in his arms. “Always wanted to do this.”

“Don’t tell me I’m your first.”

“In so many things, Princess, you are most definitely my first.” He places me in the bed and braces his hands on either side of me, then lowers his mouth to mine, kissing me tenderly. “Go to sleep, Princess. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

“I’m not”—I yawn suddenly—“tired.”

“You look exhausted.” He kisses my cheek, nibbling his way to my jaw and then my neck. I tip back my head to give him better access. “I’ll help you sleep, baby.”

Rolling to the side, he slips his hand under my loose pants and finds my clit with unerring ease. “No panties?”

I blush a little. “I thought…I’d hoped that you would find me today.”

“You did?” he asks, his fingers parting me, gliding through my arousal and making my hips jump. “Such a wet little pussy. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you.”

Reality tries to rear its ugly head and I grab his wrist, my eyes flying to him. “We can’t. I have to…” My lips quiver because I hate feeling so helpless at the moment. I hate wanting him. Hate that I need him. Hate that I love him. Except I don’t hate any of those things at all.

“Let me love you, Charlotte,” he murmurs. “You can pretend nothing happened, go back to thinking the worst of me, when I’m done.”

“I don’t think the worst of you—that’s always been my problem, always my weakness.”

“No, that’s always been your biggest strength. You think the best of everyone.” Then he kisses me deeply, stroking my clit and making me forget everything but how he can make me feel. How hard he can make me come…how utterly blissful it is to be worshipped by his body.

It doesn’t take me very long at all to shatter around him, to pull him closer, urge him to come inside me, because I have to have him. Have to enjoy every second of our time together before it ends.

“Are you sure?” he asks.

I nod and he helps me undress, then practically tears off his own clothes before entering me with one swift thrust that makes my toes curl. Unlike last night, where we were like storms colliding with the shore, he takes me slowly.

Sinking inside me with thrusts so deep that I claw at his back and chant his name.

“I love you,” he whispers against my skin, so softly that I barely catch it in time before he groans low in his throat, coming inside me in hot spurts that trigger my own orgasm.

“Are you okay?” he asks, brushing away the hair at my temple.

Too overwhelmed to speak, I nod.

He kisses my nose and moves off me, dressing in no time and then returning with a warm cloth to clean me up. “Go to sleep.”

“What about you?”

“Have to go back and grab my laptop,” he says, one hand on the door. “I dropped it when I thought you were being attacked. Pretty sure I cracked something.”

I rise up on my elbows. He’s never said it, but I know how important his computer is to him because he takes it nearly everywhere he goes. “I hope it’s okay.”

“Even if the contents of what’s in the envelope are on it?” he asks, then laughs without mirth. “Forget I asked that. I already know the answer. I’ll see you this evening at dinner. I’ll be the one with the target painted on my chest.”

He opens the door, walks through, and closes it behind him.