Claiming His Princess

Now she felt horribly alone and hankered for something familiar. Something to anchor her in a world that kept moving and changing at a pace she was struggling to keep up with. She’d had so many decisions to make lately she was completely exhausted. No wonder she felt so out of sorts. Life-changes usually happened one at a time and with some sense of order. Didn’t they? At least that had been her experience to date. But these past few weeks nothing had been as it should. Least of all her.

In a split-second decision she knew Wolfe would call a ‘spontaneous reaction’ Ava instructed the driver to take her to her gallery, and immediately felt better.

The restless energy flowing through her was somewhat appeased at the thought of seeing Monique’s new works. They’d been installed two weeks ago, and viewing them on her smartphone wasn’t the same as standing back and inspecting them in person.

She smiled as her change in plans was relayed to the other two cars. No doubt Wolfe would have a kitten…but he had chosen to abandon his post and there was nothing he could do about it. She imagined the conversation they might have if he were here. Was it wrong to enjoy their mental tussles with each other so much?

When the car stopped Ava didn’t wait for her chauffeur to open her door but did it herself, breathing in the sweet damp air of Place des Vosges.

Her new bodyguard stopped beside her. ‘Ma’am, I’d like you to wait a few minutes before heading inside.’

Ava considered that briefly and then realised why. ‘Is Wolfe on his way?’

‘Yes, ma’am.’

Ava cursed. ‘I thought you were in charge now?’

‘I am. However—’

‘Never mind. And, no, I won’t wait for your boss to join us.’

Pivoting on her heel, she set off across the square to the row of shops she knew like the back of her hand. Her footsteps echoed in the quiet night that was only broken by the low hum of fast-moving cars on the main road and the squeak and clunk of a garbage truck as it rattled along the cobbled streets.

Dan reached the solid metal door to her building before her and held his hand out for the key. ‘I’ll do that, ma’am.’

A car door slammed somewhere close behind her but she ignored it.

‘I can do it.’ It might be the last time she ever did, and she wanted to take in every moment.

‘Ava!’

Wolfe’s hard, angry voice made her fingers fumble the key, and that made her mad. He wasn’t going to ruin this for her by muscling his way in. She wouldn’t let him.

Of course her stupid key chose that moment to become stuck and, frustrated, she twisted it in the opposite direction. Wolfe’s harsh, ‘Get back!’ confused her, and then a strong arm wrapped around her middle and yanked her sideways seconds before a deafening bang exploded in her ear.

CHAPTER NINE

SHE SCREAMED AND then lost her breath as she felt as if a giant boulder had fallen on top of her.

‘Secure…the…area.’

Wolfe’s deep voice, laden with pain, instructed the men running towards them. Ava coughed as she tried to breathe the filthy air around them, but her lungs were constricted. Feeling winded, she tried to twist onto her back and realised that it was Wolfe who was smothering her with his body.

When he shifted she dragged in a bucketload of acrid-smelling air. ‘What…?’

‘Ava. Don’t move.’ Deft hands ran over her body with mechanical efficiency, and when he was satisfied she wasn’t seriously injured he hovered over her, his movements somehow lacking their usual fluid grace.

Hearing a ringing sound in her ears, she peered around to see that the front of her building was completely blown apart. The fire door she had installed as a precaution lay crumpled as if a giant fist had tried to punch holes in it.

Bewildered by the chaos and devastation around her, and only peripherally aware that Wolfe’s men surrounded them, Ava glanced at Wolfe. ‘Mon Dieu, you are hurt.’

Ignoring The pain in her hands and hip where she had hit the pavement, she reached out to the jagged tear down the sleeve of his jacket. The white shirt beneath was already turning crimson under the glow of the street lamp that remained intact like a silent sentinel above them.

‘Get her…into the car,’ Wolfe rasped, shrugging out of his torn jacket.

‘No.’ Ava tried to reach for him, her only thought to help him, but he slashed his hand in the air.

‘Now.’

His voice brooked no argument and before she could do anything his men had gripped her arms and steered her back towards the limousine. She could hear Wolfe ruthlessly issuing orders and the distant wail of a police siren. Concerned voices filtered through the dust and smoke and then faded away as Wolfe’s men held back any curious onlookers drawn by the explosion.

Within minutes of the police arriving Wolfe was beside her in the car, wearing a black leather jacket; nothing about his appearance suggested that he’d just thrown himself on top of her as a bomb had blasted glass, bricks and plaster all over him.

He seemed calm and eerily controlled.

By contrast Ava couldn’t stop trembling. She was to blame for what had happened. Wolfe had told her not to change her itinerary and she hadn’t listened. She had wanted—what? The comfort of the familiar? To get back at Wolfe for leaving her? To make him come after her?

She let out a shaky breath. Right now all she knew was that she had put those assigned to take care of her in danger and she felt awful.

On top of all that the threat to her life was obviously real! Somehow she had held on to the notion that Wolfe was wrong. But it wasn’t he who had been wrong, it was her.

‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered helplessly. ‘I feel terrible.’

‘It’s not your fault.’ His voice was clipped, withdrawn. It made her feel worse because she could tell he was blaming himself.

Tears welled behind her eyes but she told herself not to get emotional. That now was not the time. But emotion was stronger than logic even on a good day. ‘That is nonsense. I should have—’

‘No! I should have.’ His eyes met hers and he stopped. ‘Where are you hurt?’

‘I’m okay.’

‘Ava.’ The way he said her name was a warning that he was going to go completely macho if she didn’t cooperate, but all she could think about was how much she loved the way it sounded on his lips.

‘My wrist.’ And her hip. And she could really use a glass of water.

As if she’d spoken out loud he retrieved a bottle from the mini-bar and untwisted the top.

‘Merci.’

After she’d finished he took the bottle. ‘Give me a look at your hands.’

Shaking, Ava held them out and he gently felt along her wristbones. She winced as he pressed on her tender palm, but he continued his inspection undeterred.

‘I don’t think bones are broken, but your palms are badly scraped.’

‘They’ll heal,’ she dismissed, catching his brooding frown.

‘Thankfully.’

His phone rang before she could ask what would happen next and he released her hand to answer it.

She closed her eyes as the night-dark city whisked by. Wolfe didn’t try to touch her or talk to her again but she wanted him to. She felt chilled, as if she’d never be warm again. And for once she didn’t argue when he took complete control of the situation. Right now it was easier to sit back and let him do what he did best.

She stole a glance at his austere profile. His jaw was packed with tension, his expression tough. He would do anything to keep her safe because he had to, and all she wanted was for him to do it because he wanted to.

With a start she realised just how much she trusted him to take care of her. How much she trusted him to have her best interests at heart.

‘Please don’t be angry at Dan,’ she said, suddenly realising that she might have put the other man’s job at risk. ‘He tried to stop me.’

‘I’m not angry at Dan,’ he said flatly.

No. He was angry with her. With himself, perhaps.

‘You won’t fire him?’

‘Your concern for his future is a little misplaced. Your behaviour tonight could have got him killed. It could have got you—Hell! What were you thinking?’

Although his words were angry his tone sounded more…devastated. And that sent her own sense of guilt higher.

‘I wanted…something familiar. Closure.’

‘Closure?’

‘I felt restless after you left and I knew I wouldn’t sleep. It seemed like a good idea.’

He shook his head. ‘I should have told Dan to physically waylay you.’

‘Why didn’t you?’

His gaze was intense when it connected with hers. ‘I didn’t want him touching you.’

Ava swallowed at the raw admission.

‘Just another mistake on my part.’ He blew out a breath and turned away from her, his hands knotted into fists on his thighs.

‘Do you think any of Monique’s paintings survived?’

He looked at her as if she’d grown another head, but then his expression softened. ‘Unlikely. Your fire door sent most of the explosion inward instead of outward. It tells me that whoever set it was more rank amateur than stalwart professional.’

‘Do you have any idea who it might be?’

‘If I did I’d have my hands around their throat right now.’

‘Me, too.’

He shook his head at her, a reluctant smile forming on his lips. ‘You are one tough lady, Princess.’

Ava’s nose crinkled. She wasn’t great at accepting praise even when she felt like she deserved it, but she couldn’t deny the warm glow Wolfe’s words lit up inside her.

When the car stopped it was a good excuse to refocus her thoughts. Glancing outside, she could see they were on some form of airstrip, but it was too dark to make out exactly where they were. The only source of light was coming from the open rectangular door of Wolfe’s private plane.

Wolfe waited for his men to flank the car before opening the door. He glanced around, his eyes scanning the darkness. He was so fierce. So sure. He braced himself against the car as he leant down and beckoned to her. ‘This way.’

Careful of her injured palms, Ava scooted across the soft leather, still warm from his body. The softly falling rain chilled her bare shoulders and arms as she stepped out of the car.

Immediately Wolfe moved into her space and lifted her into his arms.

‘I can walk.’

‘My way is quicker.’

His tone told her he was readying himself for an argument, but frankly Ava didn’t have the energy and wasn’t sure of how capable she was of making it up the steps under her own steam anyway.

She sighed and rested her head against his chest, her eyelids too heavy to stay propped open. No doubt he was taking her back to Anders, but she’d much prefer a tropical island far away from the outside world if she was given the choice.

Once on his plane she kept her eyes closed, and only opened them when she felt Wolfe gently lower her onto a soft mattress.

The doctor Wolfe had sent to her at Gilles’s was waiting and Ava struggled to a sitting position, with the reams of fabric from her torn and dirty gown twisting around her legs.

He followed Wolfe’s instructions and checked her wristbones before efficiently sticking a number of plasters over her scraped palms. ‘These will feel stiff and sore for a couple of days, due to the bruising beneath the scratches, but they should heal fine.’

‘Check her left hip. It’s bothering her.’

Her eyes flew to his. How did he know it hurt? ‘It’s fine.’

‘Check it.’

Ava only flinched once during his gentle ministrations, grateful when he deemed it only a light bruise.

‘What about you?’ She glanced at Wolfe but he was busy checking an incoming message on his phone.

‘I’m fine. Thanks, Jock. Tell Stevens to get us airborne as quickly as possible.’

It was only after he said it that Ava became conscious of the whine of the aircraft. Seconds later they were racing towards the sky.

Her eyes traced the smudges of dust covering Wolfe’s sandy-blond hair and moved down over his snowy-white shirt beneath the leather jacket.

‘You’re shivering. Here.’ Wolfe pulled a brand-new white shirt out of a small closet, his movements as clipped as his tone. ‘I don’t have anything for you to wear and both your clothes and your lady’s maid are back at the hotel. Can you get changed yourself?’

‘Into a shirt?’

‘It’s all I have here.’

Ava stared at it, the events of the night crashing in around her. Tears pricked behind her eyes and she bit her bottom lip. Hard. She felt scarily vulnerable and needy. The feeling brought both Frédéric’s and her mother’s death into sharp focus inside her mind.

‘Come here,’ he said gently.

Wolfe gripped her shoulders, but Ava was afraid if she gave in to the comfort he was offering she would break down completely and never let him go. She shook her head. ‘I need to use the bathroom. I’m filthy.’

He looked as if he wanted to argue but then released her. ‘Bathroom’s through there.’

As the enormity of what had happened hit her full-on Ava had to concentrate to make her legs carry her the short distance across the plane.

Once inside the pristine bathroom, she used the amenities and eyed the shower stall despondently. It would take too long to shower with her hands bandaged, but she would love to just wash the night away if she could.

Don’t think about it, she ordered herself. Then maybe it will all go away.

She felt like crying.

Reaching around to the side of her gown, she let out an impatient growl as her clumsy fingers fought to drag the zipper down. Then she heard the unmistakable sound of fabric tearing and a sob rose in her throat. The once beautiful gown sagged and fell to the floor and it took all her effort to remain standing. Crying over a dress when someone was trying to kill her…when someone had killed her brother…Pathetic.

Telling herself to get a grip, she kicked off her heels and stuffed her arms into Wolfe’s shirt. She knew immediately by the linen smell that he’d never worn it, and that made her want to cry even more.

Dashing at her useless tears to hold them back, she nearly screamed aloud when she couldn’t even do the simple task of sliding buttons into buttonholes. Her fingers were hampered by the thick bandages and the length of the shirtsleeves that dangled past her wrists and refused to stay pushed up her arms.

‘Oh, damn, damn, damn.’

‘Ava? Are you okay in there?’

Ava stopped cursing and stilled. ‘Oui. Fine.’

The door opened regardless and Wolfe stood framed in the doorway, with his hands on his hips. He’d changed into a clean shirt that hung out over soft denim jeans. Magnificent didn’t even begin to describe him.

Wolfe felt as if someone had just tried to squeeze every drop of blood out of his heart as he took in the sight of her standing in the middle of the bathroom, pale and regal, clutching the sides of his shirt together, her torn gown like a puddle of blood circling her bare legs and feet. Tear-marks tracked down her dirty face and her lower lip was trembling as she tried to hold herself together.

He’d never met another woman like her. One who faced life’s challenges with grit and determination. One who wasn’t afraid to face the truth about herself and, when she set her mind to something, just gathered her courage, rolled up her sleeves and got on with it.

Something tugged in the region of his heart. She was beautiful and strong and…special. The word anchored inside his mind and wouldn’t budge. It didn’t help that she looked as sexy as hell in his shirt.

‘I can’t do up these damned buttons,’ she complained, her voice rough as she worked to hold back tears, her brow furrowed.

‘Oh, baby…’ Wolfe didn’t have a lot of experience dealing with female tears but he acted purely on instinct as he stepped into the room and closed his arms around her. Something satisfying was released inside him when she buried her head against his chest and sniffed. It felt as if she belonged there, but he immediately dismissed the rogue thought. That kind of thinking was totally against his rules.

Her arms slid around his back and he ignored the bolt of discomfort that shot up his spine as she inadvertently touched muscles that had been crushed when part of the wall of her gallery building had landed on top of him.

‘Do you know why I chose Paris?’

Her soft voice was muffled against his shirt front and she reminded him of the bunch of newborn kittens he and his brother had once found abandoned in one of the back sheds on their farm. He and Adam had secretly fed them until they had grown too big to be contained. His father had wanted to drown the lot of them, but both of them had begged him to reconsider. Then they had made signs and taken the kittens to the local mall, and stayed all day until the last one had been given away.

The stupid memory made him feel suddenly vulnerable, and he cleared his throat and smoothed his hand up and down Ava’s back to distract himself. ‘No. Why?’

‘It’s my mother’s city. She grew up here. After she died my life became like something out of a Dickens novel. My father didn’t know how to deal with a teenage daughter so he didn’t. Since Frédéric had been sent to military school, I…I…’

‘You had no one.’

‘No.’

A raw sob ripped from her throat and, remembering her stoic reaction to the news of Frédéric’s death, Wolfe guessed that she had probably never let herself grieve the loss. The futile destruction of her gallery would be just one more injury for her to try to cope with.

The need to comfort her overrode any sense of self-preservation he had left. Gathering her close, he cradled the back of her head and soaked up her tears, absorbing as much of her pain as he could. When the storm had passed she shifted even closer and every muscle in his body tensed in response.

‘You must think I’m a weak foo—Oh, my God. Why did you not tell me I looked like this?’

Wolfe glanced over his shoulder and saw her horrified reflection in the small bathroom mirror. He eased her away from him and pushed her mass of hair back from her face. ‘Really? I thought you were just going for the Panda of the Year award.’

‘Yes. With dreadlocks,’ she scoffed, dashing at the dusty tear-smudges on her cheeks with the back of one hand. The other was holding her shirt blessedly closed.

‘Here, let me.’ Still taking most of her weight, and trying not to think about how good she felt leaning into him, Wolfe reached around her and wet a facecloth with warm water. he tilted her chin up and gently wiped as much of the grit and smudges from her face as he could. His muscles knotted as he thought of how close she had come to dying, but he forced himself to relax. Right now her needs took precedence over his rage.

She must have sensed the change in him because she gave him a half-hearted smile and started fumbling with the tiny buttons on his shirt.

Damn, he was going to have to do that for her, as well.

Gently knocking her hands aside, he reached for the top button of the shirt. ‘Let me do that. It will be quicker.’

Her beautiful red-rimmed eyes met his and sweat broke out on his forehead. He needed to think of something else.

First, remove the dust cover, then release the tension on the recoil spring.

Okay, he started disassembling an AK47 in his head. That was definitely something else.

His fingers felt feeble as he forced the buttons into their holes and he paused when he accidentally brushed the sweet-smelling skin between her breasts.

Slide the hammer back.

What the hell were these buttons made of anyway? Plasticine?

Gas tube off—

No, idiot. Adjust the front sight post first.

Oh, what the hell.

There was no way cold hard metal could compete with the memory of the weight of those round breasts in the palm of his hands and he gave up, giving his mind permission to conjure up the bumpy texture of her nipples when they were aroused into tight peaks, their colour, their flavour…

Finally reaching the last button, and completely disgusted with himself, Wolfe was glad he didn’t have that useless AK47 handy or he might shoot himself with it. He’d been as good as useless to her tonight anyway.

With professional detachment he ignored the question in his head about whether she was wearing panties and lifted her into his arms, hoping to God she couldn’t feel his thundering heartbeat. He strode into the plane’s bedroom and placed her quickly on the turned-back bed.

About to tell her he’d leave her to rest, he realised she hadn’t moved, but sat huddled right where he’d put her.

‘Ava…’ He said her name on an exhalation. She looked so washed-out and unhappy he couldn’t stop himself from placing his knee on the bed beside her and rubbing his hands over her shoulders. ‘Baby, lie down.’

She shook her head and her lower lip wobbled again.

‘Come on, Princess. Time for sleep.’

He eased her down on the pillows and smoothed her hair back from her face, determined to let that be the end of it.

‘Wolfe?’ Her voice, barely a whisper, was laced with fatigue and shock. ‘Could you stay with me? I mean…just for a minute.’

Could he stay with her? Sure. Should he stay with her? No.

Wolfe closed his eyes and held himself still. It would be a monumental mistake to say yes. He wanted to stay. All too much. Which was why he shouldn’t.

‘Okay.’ His hand slipped to the side of her face, caressing the cool skin of her cheek, her jaw. Before he had time to think about it he eased in beside her and leaned his back against the headboard. Without a word he gathered her close and felt her whole body sigh as she arranged her limbs to slot perfectly against his own—as if he’d been made specifically for this purpose. Specifically for her.

A sensation of warmth spread inside his chest and a lump formed in his throat. Without being truly conscious of it he stroked her back. ‘Sleep, Princess. I’ll be here.’

Had he really just promised that?

After promising himself he’d keep as much physical distance from her as possible?

Well, yes, but there was time to re-implement that plan once he had her on his island. His house wasn’t huge, but it was big enough to get lost in, and once he had her safe he’d be able to lock himself away and get to work.

So, yes, he would stay for now, give her the comfort she had sought and failed to receive as a lonely teenager, and then he’d get up. Pore over the intel his team would have sent him about the bomb. He had a suspicion he knew who was behind the attack on her life, given the people he had deliberately leaked Ava’s bogus itinerary to, and it was time to find out if his instincts were correct.

Releasing a slow breath, he willed his pain-racked body to fake relaxation. Earlier, when he had spotted Ava in front of her building it had been like running over moon grass instead of smooth pavement trying to reach her. His instincts had been screaming that he should have sent somebody over to check the gallery earlier that night. He hadn’t—another slip-up—and he’d nearly lost her. Hell, a newly minted grunt could do a better job of protecting her than he had.

She made a light snuffling sound in her sleep and he realised he’d been stroking her hair. He untangled his fingers and pulled his hand back, wincing when a strand caught in one of his chipped fingernails.

Seriously, it was time to stop mooning over those blue, blue eyes and the honeyed taste of her mouth and remember she wasn’t a goddamned date.

He cursed low under his breath as he realised he’d given himself this same pep talk once before. Then it had been as effective as trying to milk a cow while wearing gardening gloves. Something else he and his brother had tried once. And what was with all these childhood memories streaming into his consciousness as silent and insidious as floodwater?

His gaze slid to Ava’s face. A soft wave of her hair had fallen across her cheek and he gently moved it back. The lump in his throat returned with interest.

Dammit, he had to pull back. If he didn’t do white picket fences he certainly didn’t do bluestone rock with a moat and a drawbridge! But there was nothing he could do to stem the flood of feeling her near-death had opened up in him. He’d do anything to protect her. He knew it. And it was only sensible that he hated that feeling.

About to move off the bed, he felt her arm stretch and settle across his waist. Helpless to do anything else, Wolfe watched her sleep.