Free The Runaway Princess by Christina Dodd Page B

desire, then satisfied. Her spread legs left the feminine softness between them unguarded.
    He might have thought it was only him who noticed. He might have thought himself a pervert of the first water. But she couldn’t hide her discomfort, or that her own vulnerability embarrassed her.
    He had known, because at first she’d tried to hold herself away. That aroused him, and he’d wanted to tell her he knew of a woman’s curves, and how all women were made.
    A lie, of course. He knew how other women were built. Somehow, his body had convinced him that Evangeline was different. Unique.
    When she gave up the struggle and relaxed against him, he had been satisfied—and tormented. She trusted him to carry her to sanctuary.
    Well and good.
    She rested oblivious on his back
    He was not some tame bear trained to cart her to safety. He was a wolf, and he wanted nothing so much as to eat her whole.
    Only the lack of time and the possibility of ambush saved her from becoming a meal for a hungry man.
    That, and his eternal vigil over himself and his baser urges. To take advantage of this woman in such crude circumstances and without control seemed like something his father would do.
    His father. Danior clenched his fists. If it weren’t for his father and the revolution he had incited, all would be well in his kingdom. Danior could have tracked Evangeline and fetched her back to Plaisance without furtiveness, with the honor she deserved. If she had the chance to see her lands, to realize what this union meant to the people, she wouldn’t struggle against her fate. She would embrace it.
    They had reached the halfway point in the path when she tried again. “Just let me walk from here.”
    â€œYou’ll try to escape.” She wouldn’t, he knew. She no doubt recognized the futility of such a gesture.
    â€œI’m not stupid.”
    â€œYou haven’t proved that to me yet, Your Highness.”
    â€œYou are so cranky.”
    So he was. This chivalrous constraint made him cranky. Hell, it had made him furious. Didn’t she know who he was? Not a prince, nor a gentleman, but a warrior who had stalked the enemy, who had fought and killed to keep his country free. A warrior who held his woman, limp and quiescent, on his back. His hands supported her by the round globes of her buttocks, and right now, all he could think about was sliding his grip in a little. If he did, he would reach the slit in her pantaloons. He could touch her moistness . . .
    â€œYou’re sweating,” she complained.
    She refused to comprehend the danger she courted. In fact, if he had to pick out one complaint from the ever-lengthening list of What was Wrong with the Princess, it would be that she heedlessly raced to embrace danger. Hitting him, defying him, running from him, enticing him, lying to him . . . she even claimed to be an orphan with no breeding or background. Only another royal could comprehend how he would hate to lower the majesty of the Leon family line by breeding with a commoner.
    Everything she did she aimed at him. At him, and at evading the destiny that bound them together.
    She would never escape him, on that he was determined.
    They reached the end of the path. The door to the convent loomed before them, and he knew he could put her down at last. But he didn’t want to seem too eager. And in fact, while he wanted to rest, he hated to allow her to place even the slightest distance between them.
    Maneuvering her so she could reach the rope dangling against the solid rock wall, he gasped, “Ring the bell.”

Nine
    â€œNot until you put me down.” Evangeline couldn’t believe how stubborn this man was, but it was time he learned she was stubborn, too. “I am not going into a convent clinging like a barnacle to your back.”
    She felt his spine stiffen. His body communicated his absolute disbelief right through to hers, and his hands flexed on her