Читать книгу Claiming His Princess: Duty at What Cost? / A Throne for the Taking / Princess in the Iron Mask - Kate Walker - Страница 11

‘DID MATTHIEU SAY what my father wanted to see me about, Lucy?’

‘No, ma’am.’ Lucy, her new lady’s maid, returned from the wardrobe with two jackets for her to choose from.

Ava shook her head and immediately felt terrible as Lucy’s face fell. Two weeks home and she still wasn’t used to being waited on hand and foot again. She felt sorry for the young girl whose services she’d barely used.

She glanced at her reflection and smoothed her messy ponytail. She hadn’t done her hair properly in days, but her father had requested her presence and she would not let him see her as anything less than perfect.

‘You don’t like my choices, ma’am?’

‘I love your choices.’ She gave Lucy what she hoped was an appreciative smile. ‘But it’s hot. In fact, why don’t you take the afternoon off? Go and see your boyfriend.’

The girl bobbed her head deferentially and Ava sighed heavily and headed out.

She hated being home.

Hated the cold stone walls of the palace that felt more like a prison. She had barely seen her father since she’d returned, which wasn’t necessarily a bad thing—except she had barely seen anyone other than staff, and it had given her far too much time to dwell on her grief.

Glimpsing bright summer sunshine through the long row of Gothic windows as she moved from one hallway to the next made Ava feel bleak. It just felt wrong. The sky should be grey, not blue.

Her brother was dead. The royal duties she had always shied away from were upon her, and there was no escape.

As her father had said, the people needed hope in these black times and she was it. They looked upon her to lift them out of the bleak mood caused by the loss of her brother—and, more than that, Ava now knew that her father was ill. One day, sooner than she had expected, she would be Queen—and the thought was completely overwhelming.

What did she know about running a country? Having all those people depend on her? It was criminal how little she knew, and even though that was mainly due to her father’s chauvinistic views that women were trophies, not leaders, it gave her no pleasure that he now had to rely on her to preserve Anders’ future as an economically viable entity.

And what of her gallery? It was closed for the whole of August, but she had dithered about what to do with it. Although of course she knew in her heart that she would most likely have to close it. It was devastating to think that the life she had built for herself could be so easily dissolved. As if nothing she had done in Paris mattered.

Steadying her breath, she hid her pangs of dismay and a gnawing sense of foreboding behind a smile as she stepped inside her father’s plush outer office and greeted his personal assistant.

‘He’s waiting, Your Royal Highness.’

‘Thank you, Matthieu.’

She tried to relax her face as Matthieu opened an inner door and Ava saw her father, as always, behind his enormous rosewood desk. He looked pale and more drawn than usual, and Ava tried to keep her immediate concern from showing in her voice. ‘You wished to see me?’

‘Yes, Ava. Take a seat.’

‘You’re starting to worry me, sir,’ she said, sitting in one of the leather-bound chairs opposite, wondering why he had greeted her in English. ‘Have you received bad news from your physician?’

‘No.’ Her father’s response was clipped. ‘I’ve received disturbing news from the security expert who brought you home from France.’

Wolfe?

Ava’s heart leapt behind her rib cage as an image of him that seemed all too close to the surface of her mind clouded her vision. For two weeks he had filled her thoughts right before sleep took her, and he was the first thing she thought of when she woke up. Even on the morning of Frédéric’s funeral, when she had felt at Her lowest.

Ava sighed. She really needed to stop thinking about those hours they’d spent in bed together. Her dreams of him left her feeling weak and needy, and the man probably couldn’t even remember her name, let alone conjure up her image in his head.

Unlike her good self, who could not only conjure up his image oh, so easily, but his scent as well—woodsy and masculine. It was so vivid that he might as well have been in the room with her right now.

‘What does Wolfe have to do with anything?’

She had tried to keep the query light, but a sudden fear that her father knew that she had slept with him came at her from left field. Surely Wolfe hadn’t told anyone? The tabloids? Could her father’s health withstand a salacious story about her at this time?

‘I have to do with a lot of things, Your Royal Highness.’

The deep, familiar drawl from the man filling her head space had her twisting around in her seat to where he stood across the room, his body half turned away, as if he’d been doing nothing more than studying the scenery outside the high arched windows.

‘But in this case it’s about your safety.’

Her eyes drank in his beautifully cut black trousers and white dress shirt that pulled tight across his wide shoulders. He’d had a haircut, the shorter style drawing even more attention to the roguish quality of his perfect bone structure.

Those remembered toffee eyes were fixed on her face, touching her mouth ever so briefly, and Ava felt singed all the way through.

‘What about my safety?’ She hated that she sounded as breathless as she felt.

‘Monsieur Wolfe has some news concerning your car crash at Gilles’s château.’

She heard the underlying censure in her father’s tone and guessed that he was angry she hadn’t told him about the accident herself, but she had no time to ponder that as Wolfe prowled towards her, his loose-limbed gait impossibly graceful for a man his size.

He effortlessly dominated the large room and as he drew closer she realised that her heart was racing. He, of course, could have been a mummy for all the emotion he displayed.

Using years of practice to keep her expression from revealing any of her inner turmoil at having this man—her one-night lover—in the same room as her father, Ava forced herself to maintain eye contact with him. ‘Such as?’

‘Yesterday I spoke to the mechanic who repaired your car,’ he informed her, a touch of fierceness lining his words.

‘Why would you do that?’

‘A hunch.’

‘A hunch?’

‘Yes. One that paid off. You didn’t crash because of a loss of concentration. You crashed because a vial of potassium permanganate mixed with glycerine had been dropped into your brake master cylinder.’

Ava’s brow furrowed. ‘Is there a layperson’s version of that?’

‘Your brakes were tampered with.’

Did he mean deliberately? ‘Maybe they were worn.’

‘Yes. With a special chemical compound that, when it got hot enough, rendered your brakes useless.’

Ava struggled to digest what he was saying. ‘You think my car was deliberately sabotaged?’ The very idea was ludicrous. It was true that Anders had once experienced conflict with the neighbouring country of Triole, but that had died down years ago. Her brother had even been set to marry the young Princess of Triole when she came of age.

‘Not only that,’ her father interjected. ‘We now know that Frédéric’s helicopter crash was not an accident either.’

‘What?’ Ava’s startled gaze flew to her father. ‘I…How is that possible?’

Wolfe’s voice was hard when he answered. ‘A section of the rotor was altered in such a way that the pilot had no chance of detecting it.’

‘You’re suggesting Freddie was murdered?’

‘Not suggesting. Stating. And whoever did it went after you, too.’

Ava reflexively pressed her hand into her stomach. This was too much to take in. ‘But that is absurd. Who would do such a thing?’

‘Enemies. Freaks. Stalkers. Shall I go on?’ His tone was deadly serious.

‘Monsieur Wolfe has kindly agreed to investigate that side of things.’

‘Wolfe.’

He’d corrected her father. Something no man ever did. Half expecting him to put Wolfe in his place, she was surprised when her father nodded.

Men!

‘Really? You volunteered?’ Ava didn’t bother hiding her incredulity. ‘Why would you do that?’

‘Ava!’ Her father’s reprimand at her outspokenness was loud and clear in the still room. ‘Wolfe hasn’t volunteered. I have hired him.’

Of course. She thought asininely. Why would a man who keeps his affairs short and shallow volunteer to help out a woman he is clearly finished with?

It galled her to recall just how many times she had checked her mobile phone for a missed message from him over the past weeks. She could have called him, she supposed, but pride had stopped her from even considering it. Calling him would only prove that she hadn’t been able to move on from their night together while he had.

‘Why would you do that, sir?’ Ava turned her back on Wolfe to try to block out the overwhelming physical attraction she still felt for him. ‘Why not use the local police?’

‘It’s a question of trust, Your Highness,’ Wolfe answered.

His frigid formality made her feel despondent, and that in turn made her feel annoyed. ‘We don’t trust our own police force now? We’re a peaceful nation, Monsieur Wolfe,’ she said, stamping her own formality on the situation. ‘No political uprisings anywhere.’

‘True. But in this situation you don’t know who is intending to hurt you. I won’t.’

His tone was bold and confident and she wished she shared his assurance. After the way she had dreamt about him for two weeks she wasn’t so sure. Although she did believe he wouldn’t hurt her in the way he was referring to.

His thick lashes acted like a shield against his thoughts and Ava couldn’t wait for the meeting to end. ‘I’m not sure I believe this.’ She appealed to her father. ‘It could just be coincidence.’

‘Chemical compounds kind of mitigate that possibility, Your Highness.’ Again Wolfe answered for her father.

‘I trust Wolfe’s judgement on this, Ava.’

Over her own? What a surprise.

‘Fine.’ She waved her hand dismissively. ‘Is that all, sir?’ She needed to get out. Back to the sanctuary of her suite. Wolfe’s steely indifference was like a red rag to her overly sensitised senses.

On the one hand she was glad he was treating her like a stranger, but it made her feel inadequate when all she could do was remember the feel of his body when it had been joined to hers, his hands on her skin, his mouth…Oh, his mouth!

And Frédéric had been killed. Someone might be trying to kill her as well…

‘No, that is not all.’ Her father brought her attention back to him. ‘Wolfe has also been hired as your personal bodyguard for the duration of the investigation.’

The breath stalled in her lungs and the room spun. ‘I don’t think I heard you correctly, sir.’

Neither did Wolfe.

Her personal bodyguard?

He glanced at Ava’s shocked expression and hoped his own didn’t mirror it. The King had requested that he organise personal security for her, not that he be responsible for her himself. He didn’t have time for that kind of grunt work on top of his corporate responsibilities. And guarding a woman who already occupied too much of his head space was not something he’d let any of his staff do.

‘I know you don’t like security being assigned to you Ava,’ the King said. ‘But things have changed. You are now the Crown Princess and you need to be protected at all times. This situation highlights how important that is.’

‘Yes, but we have our own security detail.’

Her father sighed, as if he was settling in for a familiar battle. ‘I believe hiring an outsider is the best course of action until this situation is resolved. Wolfe comes highly recommended and is a personal friend of Gilles.’

‘I disagree.’

Determination vibrated through her voice and got Wolfe’s back up.

The skin on the back of his neck prickled and he resisted the urge to rub it; he was a master at not giving in to those physical signs that demonstrated when a man was under extreme stress. He had tried to convince himself that his sleepless nights with Ava on his mind were just because he had a niggle about her accident. he’d assumed that once that niggle had been investigated and the King was apprised of the danger surrounding his daughter he’d be able to re-establish his normal routine.

The driving need that had hit him in the gut as soon as Ava had stepped into the room made a mockery of that. It wasn’t ruminations over her accident that had kept him awake—and hard—for the past two weeks. It was her.

Absently Wolfe wondered if she had relived their night together as much as he had, and whether she’d be interested in taking up where they had left off.

What?

He silently mocked his wishful thinking. By the look of her she’d prefer to run him through with one of those swords lining the King’s private study.

Maybe he just needed to get laid.

And, no, not with her. If he took her on as a client—

‘Wolfe is clearly too busy, sir. But I’m sure there’s another person out there just as capable.’

She was right about him being too busy, Wolfe thought, but there really was no one else he would trust with her life.

Feeling that he no longer had a choice, he gave the King a curt nod of acceptance.

‘No!’

The King cut an irritated look at his daughter. ‘Ava, this is not open for discussion. My word is law, and it’s time you realised that you have a responsibility, a duty, to your country. You will do it.’

Did that mean she didn’t want to? Wolfe wouldn’t have been surprised. He understood the fickle nature of women better than most.

She stood beside the window with her arms crossed and the afternoon sun turning her hair a deep glossy brown. Wolfe could feel her frustration, her fury, in every tautly held muscle of her slender body.

His own body flushed with heat as he took her in, and he couldn’t help resenting the effect she had on him. He didn’t want to be this caught up by the sight of a woman. Ever.

‘I’ll need absolute control,’ he said, overlaying unwanted thoughts with the professionalism he prided himself on. ‘Access to everything.’ Wolfe addressed his words to the King. ‘Every nook and cranny and secret entrance and exit to the castle. Ava’s diary. Her itinerary. I’ll employ my own chef to do her meals, and I want the final word on everything she does and every person she sees.’

‘You’re asking a lot.’

Wolfe knew what the King was saying. This is my daughter and you’d better not stuff up. ‘Yes, I am.’

‘Perhaps Monsieur Wolfe would like my firstborn, as well?’ Ava said, injecting her voice with bored insolence, tapping her foot agitatedly on the marble floor.

The King nodded his agreement before addressing his mutinous daughter. ‘I have organised a ball in your brother’s honour this coming weekend and you will need security for that.’

‘It’s too soon,’ Ava whispered softly.

Her arms enfolded her waist in a protective gesture her father didn’t seem to notice, but it tugged at some unwanted place inside Wolfe’s chest.

‘It’s not too soon. And the ball is not only to honour your brother’s life—it is to find you a husband.’

A husband?

Wolfe’s eyes locked on Ava’s face, which had suddenly turned ashen. His own gut felt as if it was twisted up with his intestines, and a flash of adrenaline rushed through his system as if he’d just been physically assaulted.

‘I can find my own husband, sir.’

‘Not now that you’re Crown Princess, you can’t,’ the King rasped. ‘The stakes have been raised, Ava, and you’ve had more than enough time to find a suitable partner and Anders badly needs a celebration and an heir.’

The tension in the room as Ava stared at her father could have cracked the Arctic shelf. Wolfe thought of the island paradise he had planned to visit next week, after his round of meetings. The warm sparkling blue waters of the North Atlantic. A new set of sun loungers that edged one end of his lap pool.

‘Do I even need to be in attendance, sir?’ Ava stared down her nose at her father with bored enquiry. ‘I’d hate to mess around with your plans.’

The King’s eyes hardened. ‘Don’t be smart, Ava. You have a duty to do. You know that.’

‘And is it my fault that I am entirely underprepared to carry out that duty?’ she retorted.

Her words were underscored by a subtle vulnerability that called to every one of Wolfe’s protective instincts and threatened his determination to remain detached from everything at all times. It was an aspect of his nature that had never been challenged before—regardless of what he had seen and experienced. It was the reason he had acquired his nickname.

Instead of following that troublesome thought down what could only be a dead-end street set with an ambush, he focused on what he could see and hear. The facts.

‘You chose to run around Paris for eight years.’ The King’s face had the motley hue of a man on the edge.

‘Because I didn’t have any choices here,’ Ava returned icily.

‘I won’t argue with you, Ava. You need a husband. Someone who understands the business and can support you when you need it.’

Wolfe noticed the King’s hand shook slightly as he picked up his water glass. ‘Wolfe, if you would accompany my daughter back to her quarters? I’m sure you’ll want to get started on the best way to carry out your duties as soon as possible.’

Wolfe wasn’t sure about anything right now except two things. His need for this woman was stronger than it had ever been, and taking on the role of her personal bodyguard was absolute insanity.

Ava rounded on him as soon as he’d followed her into her private sitting room. ‘“I’ll need absolute control. Access to everything.”’ She mimicked his voice, her tone scathing. ‘Are you kidding me?’

Wolfe couldn’t stop himself from running his eyes over her slender curves as she stopped in the middle of the room, her body vibrating with tension.

Had she lost weight?

He studied her face. Her cheeks were flushed, her mouth was tight and she had dark smudges under her eyes that told him she had been sleeping as poorly as he had. All the same, she looked magnificent, and he wanted to take her in his arms and kiss her so soundly it was all he could do to remain where he stood. ‘It’s for your own good.’

‘According to some so is whale oil, but you won’t find me firing a harpoon any time soon.’

Wolfe sighed, realising this meeting was going to be even more difficult than he had anticipated. ‘Ava, this doesn’t have to be awkward.’

She paced away from him and then turned back sharply. ‘Don’t mistake my fury for awkwardness, Wolfe. I can’t believe you’ve agreed to take this job.’ She paused and locked her eyes on his. ‘You know, if you wanted to see me again you could have just picked up the phone.’ Her navy eyes glittered challengingly.

‘My taking this job has nothing to do with whether I want to see you again. And I believe it was you who cancelled dinner,’ he reminded her stiffly.

She gave a dismissive shrug. ‘I didn’t see the point in going out with you when it was a spur-of-the-moment request made out of guilt.’

Wolfe contemplated her answer. Was that why she’d cancelled? ‘It wasn’t guilt.’

She arched a brow. ‘No? So why run off so early? I don’t even think the birds were up when you left.’

Wolfe’s mouth tightened at the insouciant boredom he heard in her voice. It was the same tone she’d used with her father before. ‘I left because I had to provide last-minute details to two of my men before they left on another job.’ And he’d wanted to surprise her by replacing her damaged phone with one of his.

Her eyes flicked to his briefly, as if she hadn’t considered that. But why would she? In hindsight, it had probably looked bad to her, waking up alone after the passionate night they had spent together. Which, he acknowledged to himself now, was another reason he’d left. He’d woken up with such a strong sense of wellbeing his instinct had been to pull back. It was so ingrained in him he hadn’t even thought to question it at the time. Hadn’t wanted to question it. Now, looking at it from her point of view, her reactions that morning made more sense.

‘I’m sorry if I hurt you,’ he murmured sincerely.

Ava’s chin came up and her eyes shot sparks at him. ‘Hurt me? You didn’t hurt me, Wolfe.’

Wolfe’s mouth tightened at her vehemence.

‘Quite the contrary. In fact you did me a favour, because I didn’t have time to have dinner with you and…’ She shrugged again. ‘It’s too late now anyway.’

Was it?

Yes, of course it was.

‘You’re right.’ For one thing he was now her bodyguard and she was his client, and for another he wanted her just a little too much for comfort. ‘That ship has definitely sailed.’ Wolfe paced the length of an antique rug, agitated by the situation he had inadvertently created for himself. ‘And your father wants you to marry!’ Which would effectively remove her from his orbit altogether.

‘Something you’ll never do!’ The heated statement was almost a question.

‘Something I’ll never do,’ he agreed. He’d spent his adult life avoiding that particular institution, and he’d never felt any need to reconsider his views.

Ava nodded sharply, as if somehow his response had been predictable, and Wolfe ground his teeth together. This situation—his total physical awareness of this woman, his total agitation at this woman—was going to make his job almost impossible. Never before had he felt as if he was at the mercy of his emotions as he did with Ava, and he hated the feeling that he was not as in control as he would like to think he was. So much for his old nickname. Thank God his army mates couldn’t see him now!

Ava started pacing in front of the high bevelled windows again, as if she had too much energy that was searching for an outlet. Her fitted trousers pulled tight across the rounded curves of her backside.

‘You do realise if my father knew of our history together there is no way he would let you guard me?’

Wolfe brought his attention back to her face. ‘So will you tell him or will I?’ he asked silkily, irritated with himself and with her hot-headed stubbornness. She threw him a look and he swiped a hand through his hair. ‘Will you just sit down?’

‘Another order? Let me just set you straight on something, Monsieur Wolfe.’ She set her hands on her sexy hips. ‘If you think I am going to do everything you tell me to do you have another thing coming.’

Her accent had thickened with her agitation and it drove his mind right back to the bedroom.

Wolfe released a slow breath. ‘Believe it or not, I’m trying to help you.’

‘Oh, that’s right—my own personal protector.’

He crossed his arms and waited for her to run her anger out, determined not to get into any more arguments with her.

Seeming to sense his newfound resolve, she prodded at it like a child poking its fingers inside a lion’s enclosure. ‘So, do I get to order you around, as well?’

‘I work for your father.’

Her gorgeous mouth thinned. ‘Two peas in a pod. How cosy.’

‘All that energy you’re burning up is just going to tire you out unnecessarily,’ he offered amiably.

‘You should be glad I’m using it up on pacing,’ she snapped.

Wolfe’s body caught fire at her words. Down, boy. She didn’t mean that was an alternative. It would probably never be an alternative again after today. No, it definitely couldn’t be.

He watched her ponytail trail over the soft skin of her neck before he sat on the edge of the low, plump sofa that was surprisingly modern in a room that dated back centuries. ‘Take your time. I have all night.’

She crossed her arms over her chest, pushing her breasts up so they swelled just above the opening of her shirt. ‘Well, I don’t. So I’d like you to leave.’

‘I need to ask you a few questions first.’

‘You’re really pushing your luck.’

‘Maybe we should clear the air about that night at Gilles’s wedding.’

‘Us having sex, you mean?’

Her cool indifference again made him wonder just how many other men she had spent the night with, and the fact that he was at all interested only added another layer of heat to his spiralling annoyance. Was she just like his mother, willing to slake her lust whenever the urge arose and with any man handy? The thought made him sick.

‘Yes.’

Her eyebrows rose at his churlish tone and she leant back against the windowsill. ‘What’s to clear up? Have you forgotten how it’s done?’

‘Ava—’

‘Oh, don’t worry, Wolfe. I’m not about to strip off my clothes and ask for a repeat. Unless that’s what you want? Is that why you took the job?’ Her voice dropped, lowering to a sultry purr. ‘Are you going to order me to take my clothes off, Monsieur Wolfe?’

‘I don’t sleep with my clients,’ he informed her sternly, ignoring the lie his body’s response begged him to make of that statement.

She raised a mocking brow. ‘My father will be chuffed to hear that. He’s not into men, as far as I know. Although every family has their secrets.’

Her unexpected humour broke the rising tension between them and Wolfe laughed. ‘Tell me, Princess, what is it about me being your bodyguard that you hate the most if it isn’t our history?’

She threw him a droll look. ‘Do you have a spare year?’

Wolfe took a deep breath and offered up an olive branch. ‘Why don’t we start over?’

‘Pretend we’ve never met?’ she asked, somewhat dubiously.

‘If that works for you.’

She shrugged. ‘As long as you don’t order me around I can do that.’

Could she? He wasn’t sure he could. ‘Good. Take a seat.’ He spoke briskly, indicating the sofa opposite him. ‘I need to ask you some things to help my investigation.’

When she didn’t move Wolfe frowned. Was their ceasefire over so soon?

‘Ava?’

‘You can call me ma’am. And I believe you just issued another order?’

Yes, perhaps he had.

‘So did you,’ he ground out.

‘You didn’t say I couldn’t order you around.’

‘Av—Dammit, you need to cooperate or I can’t do my job.’ His mind conjured up the last time he’d teased her by telling her that he knew how to make her cooperate and he swallowed. Hard.

‘So quit.’

‘No.’

‘Why not?’

‘I’ve given my word to your father and there’s no one else I’d trust with your safety.’

‘What do you care about my safety? We’re strangers.’

Wolfe sucked in a silent breath. Seriously, The woman would try the patience of a saint. Reminding himself to keep control, he settled back more comfortably on the sofa. The cat sleeping in the corner rose and stretched, sniffed him and then crawled onto his lap.

‘Hey, mate.’ He stroked it absently. ‘You look like you’ve seen better days.’

‘He belonged to my mother.’ Her mouth turned down slightly at the corners, indicating that she was still affected by the loss. In some way he envied the fact that she cared.

The cat nudged his hand. ‘I take back what I said,’ he told the cat. ‘You’re in top condition for a man your age.’

He looked up to find Ava watching him. When their gazes collided she flushed, and he wondered what she had been thinking.

‘I think I hate you.’

Well, that was definitive, and unfortunately the feeling wasn’t mutual. ‘I’m not your enemy, Ava,’ he said softly.

The words but someone is lay unspoken between them.

Her shoulders slumped as if she had the weight of the world bearing down on her. ‘Can’t my father answer your questions?’

‘That depends on whether he knows anything about your love-life. From what I saw of the interaction between you two before I would have said you’re not that close.’

Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. ‘Why do you want to know about my love-life?’

‘Everyone in your sphere will be investigated.’

‘Even you?’

‘I have an alibi for the night Frédéric was killed.’

‘Really?’ She finally sat down and crossed her legs. Slowly. ‘What is it?’

Wolfe regarded her wryly. ‘And I don’t have any motive for wanting to kill you.’

Yet.

She smiled, clearly sensing his frustration. ‘Am I getting to you?’

‘You don’t want to get to me, Princess.’

‘No, I want you to quit.’

‘Get over it.’

Suddenly her gaze turned serious. ‘Are you planning to investigate my artists?’

‘Of course.’

‘Be nice. Some of them are sensitive.’

‘Unlike you?’ It was both a statement and a question.

‘Unlike me.’

He didn’t believe her. Just the fact that she cared about her artists told him more than anything else. And then there was the look of concern that had briefly crossed her face when she’d first walked into the King’s office. She had a heart. She just guarded it well. He could relate to that. He’d put his in a box years ago, and that was exactly where he intended it to stay. It was a timely reminder to keep his head on straight around this woman. She got to him as no one else ever had, and that made her dangerous and him volatile.

‘Who was your last lover?’

She threw him a look.

‘Before that,’ Wolfe said gruffly.

Her eyes widened. ‘You want a list?’

No, he did not want a damned list. ‘Yes.’

She looked as if she was about to tell him to take a hike. ‘A lovely American took my virginity when I was eighteen because he thought it would be fun to bed a European princess. Then I met a novelist who wanted to write the great Parisian novel. We were quite serious—unbeknown to my father—but three years ago I realised that we weren’t after the same thing and we broke up.’

Wolfe could tell that both men had hurt her and he wanted to run them through with a blunt instrument.

‘Did you love him?’ The question was irrelevant and he hoped she wouldn’t pick up on that.

‘How is that relevant?’

Damn. ‘If you’re going to question me at every turn this won’t work.’

‘I already know it won’t.’

‘Ava…’

She huffed out a breath. ‘I thought I did at the time. Now…I’m not so sure.’

He wanted to ask what had happened since to make her question that but he wasn’t sure he really wanted to know. ‘And since then?’

The look she gave him made his stomach knot.

‘Apart from the Anders football team…’ She recrossed those long legs in the other direction and stared straight at him. ‘You’re the lucky last, Monsieur Wolfe.’

Wolfe sucked in a litre of air at her admission, ignoring her snipe about the football team. How had he so completely misread her? But he’d known, hadn’t he? He’d needed to believe she was as sophisticated and jaded in the art of seduction as he was. It had made it easier to let her go after the night they’d spent together. Made it easier to believe that what was between them was nothing more than mutual biological gratification. Not that it had worked exactly…

He stood up and startled the cat, who promptly jumped down and crossed to Ava. She reached down, her movements as graceful as the animal she scooped into her arms to cuddle.

‘I’ll need to see your itinerary for the next few days,’ he said gruffly.

She didn’t look up. ‘I’ll have Lucy forward it to you tomorrow morning.’

Wolfe moved to the picture window and stared out at the acres of grass that ringed the palace to the sprawling mountains beyond. Incredibly, he was thinking how happy he was that she’d never slept with Gilles.

Hell.

If he was going to protect her he had to stay on task. He had to stop thinking of her as a person. As a desirable woman. And he especially had to stop thinking of her marrying some stupid fool her father was planning to choose for her.