Claiming His Princess. Kate Walker

his hands on his hips. ‘That’s rich, coming from you.’

      ‘I am not arrogant,’ she said in a voice that would have made her father proud. ‘I am confident. There is a difference.’

      He had the gall to laugh. ‘And the difference would fit inside a flea’s arse.’

      Ava used her sweetest voice to call him a foul name in French, knowing he probably wouldn’t understand her.

      He shook his head and tsked. ‘Temper, temper.’ His gaze lifted to her hair. ‘If I didn’t know better I’d say there was a red streak running through that glossy mane of yours.’

      A chauvinist. How original. ‘I suppose you think I should be flattered you didn’t say blond?’

      ‘No, I would never confuse you with a blonde,’ he said with mock seriousness. ‘I like blondes.’

      ‘Then I do consider myself flattered!’

      She thought about flicking the reins to try and ride off again, but he read her mind and his jaw clenched. ‘I don’t make the same mistakes twice. Shift back.’

      Ava noticed how big the hand was that gripped the reins and instantly recalled how they had felt on her body as he’d caught her. Once again her pelvis clenched, sending delicious ripples of sensation through her whole body. Surprised, and a little breathless, she berated herself for the physical reaction. He was Neanderthal man two million-odd years later, his blood supply no doubt taken up by all the muscles in his body instead of his head, where he needed it most.

      He moved a small handgun out from under the back of his shirt and tucked it inside his boot, and she felt another traitorous thrill shoot straight to her core. Peevishly she hoped the gun went off and shot him in the foot.

      ‘I’m sure many women get turned on by your barbaric tactics, but I can assure you I am not one of them.’

      ‘Good to know.’ He stroked the horse’s neck in long, smooth sweeps. ‘Since I’m not trying to turn you on.’

      His eyes glittered up at her and made her heart pump just that little bit faster. Lord, she hoped he didn’t know she was lying, because she shouldn’t find this uncultured beast of a man so attractive.

      Grabbing the pommel, he fitted his foot into the stirrup. ‘Now, you can ride up in front between my legs if you want to, Princess. Who knows? It might be fun.’

      Ava quickly scooted back and ground her teeth together when he gave a low, sexy laugh. His voice was rich and totally indolent, as if he was always thinking of ways to pleasure a woman.

      He swung easily onto the great horse, his large frame filling the saddle. The horse shifted as it readjusted to take their weight. ‘You might want to hang on.’ He shot over his shoulder, drawing up the reins.

      ‘I am.’

      He glanced to where her hands gripped the saddle blanket before raising his eyes back to hers. Ava drew in a sharp breath at the impact.

      ‘I meant to me.’

      Ava had no intention of holding on to him. ‘Dream on.’

      He gave a half smile, as if he might do exactly that, clenched his powerful thighs, and the horse sprang forwards as if it had nothing more than a child on its back.

      Instinctively Ava clutched at his shirt and found herself plastered up against the back of him. He was hard! And hot! Unable to help herself, she widened her fingers over his abdominal muscles as if she needed to do so to prevent herself from falling off. Colyn had always bemoaned the fact that she wasn’t tactile enough for him, but right now she could barely resist the urge to explore this stranger’s muscular physique. She thought she heard him blow out a hard breath and, slightly embarrassed at her temerity, quickly moved her fingers to his narrow hips. the roll of muscle there told her that he worked out. A lot.

      Fortunately it took no time for the spirited stallion to make it to the main buildings. Unfortunately it was still long enough for the friction from the saddle and his body to make the space between her legs feel soft and moist.

      Mon Dieu.

      Yes, it had been a long time since she had been intimate with a man, but this one was so not her type…

      Focusing on her surroundings, instead of the man she could feel with every cell of her body, she realised they weren’t at the stables but at one of the side entrances to the main building.

      About to ask what they were doing there, she stopped when he twisted around in the saddle, grabbed her under her arm and effortlessly lifted her off the horse. Ava felt the slide of his thigh all the way down her body and closed her eyes briefly to block out the rush of heat coursing through her. When her feet finally touched the ground she locked her knees to take her weight and had to force herself to push away from his heat.

      ‘Any time you want to learn how to fly again, Princess, you just call me, okay?’

      Ava curled her lip, but before she could come up with a pithy retort he had dug his heels into the stallion and was gone.

      Thank God. It would take two top-of-the-line masseurs to work the tension out of her back after that!

      ‘Ma’am? Are you lost?’

      A footman materialised at her side, and it was only then that Ava registered that her ‘captor’ had set her down in a private part of the castle, far from the prying eyes of arriving guests. It was probably more because he was used to using the servants’ entrance than out of any actual consideration for her, but even as she had the ungrateful thought she had a feeling she was wrong.

      Wolfe stood on the lime-green lawn at the side of the white marquee set up as a servers’ area under the shade of a weeping willow. He wasn’t on duty, but his eyes scanned the throng of wedding guests holding sparkling glasses of wine and champagne and recapping the beautiful service they had just witnessed.

      The men mostly wore classic morning suits, as he did, and the women were tastefully attired in afternoon dresses and sunhats. Later, at the evening reception, they would all change into their ballroom best.

      It was only when his eyes finally found the Princess, in a small cluster of women waiting to talk to the bride, that he realised he’d been searching for her.

      He cursed under his breath. His reaction to her was annoyingly primal. And annoyingly still present. The problem, he decided as he studied her, was that she had an element of the conquest about her. All that snooty standoffishness combined with her natural beauty was like a summons to any man who had red blood pumping through his veins. But while he enjoyed a challenge—possibly more than most men—some inner sense of self-preservation warned him to keep his distance.

      He had very firm rules when it came to women and he never deviated from them. Keep it short, keep it sweet and, most importantly, keep it simple. This posh princess had complicated written all over her pretty face.

      He’d seen enough relationships fall apart to last him a lifetime, and while logically he knew not all couples ended up on the scrap heap he wasn’t prepared to take the chance. It was probably the only risk he wasn’t willing to take, because when it all went pear-shaped the fall-out was usually devastating.

      ‘I know that face. You’re brooding about something.’

      Wolfe glanced at Gilles, who had ambled up with two glasses of champagne in his hands. Wolfe took one and smiled. ‘Just enjoying the frivolities.’

      Gilles gave him a droll look. Previously they had both bemoaned any wedding they’d been forced to attend. ‘I thought you were bringing someone with you today?’

      Wolfe took a sip and tried not to wince as the warming liquid pooled in his mouth. ‘Not while I’m working.’

      Gilles lowered his own glass, amusement dancing in his eyes. ‘She dumped you?’

      Wolfe recalled the look on Astrid’s angry face when he’d