His Pregnant Christmas Princess. Leah Ashton
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‘I’ll manage,’ Ana said, and realised she was smiling again. How did Rhys do that? When he talked to her, it was as if she forgot everything that had happened today. Or this year, really.
They both stood in the doorway, and Ana was suddenly aware of how very close they were to each other. She had to tilt her chin up to meet his gaze, and she could actually smell him—the scent of his cologne or his deodorant or something—something clean and fresh.
She also registered the colour of his eyes for the first time: a dark blue that was almost grey. Outside, she hadn’t been able to determine the colour of his hair, but when they’d walked in she’d realised it was a very dark blond. This close to him she could see more variation in the thick, shaggy hair—blond and brown and even a few strands of grey.
How old was he?
Her gaze travelled over his face. He had thick eyebrows and strong, quite full lips for a guy, though without even a hint of femininity. There were a few fine lines around his mouth and eyes. Stubble covered his sharp jaw, slightly darker than the hair on his head, and he was definitely the type of guy who suited that look.
She’d already imagined him being the kind of guy who’d rescue you from a burning building—a real hero type, befitting an ex-soldier—but this close to him, seeing his stormy eyes and the shadow of a beard, he looked almost…dangerous. There was a tension to his jaw, a steeliness to his gaze…
She realised, too late, that she was staring at him. Staring into that steely gaze. And he was staring right back.
Obviously she should look away, but she didn’t. She couldn’t.
His gaze was taking her in too, and the way it traced her features so intently made her feel incapable of movement. He took in her hair, her eyes, her nose, her lips…
What was he thinking?
Their gazes clashed again, and what she saw in his made her belly heat. Her whole body heat, actually.
Had she ever felt like this before? Reacted like this to a man before? Ana couldn’t remember. She couldn’t really think, to be honest. It was just so shocking to be drawn to this man she’d barely said anything to, whom she didn’t know at all.
Her whole body itched to touch him. They hadn’t touched since they’d met, she realised. They hadn’t shaken hands… Nothing.
What would his skin feel like? Would it be hot, like hers felt right now? And how would it feel to have that big, strong body pressed against her…?
His gaze changed. It became empty, losing all that heat, all that connection. Just like he had outside in the cold, he’d switched off. He’d disappeared, as if that connection had never existed.
It was so abrupt as to feel almost physical. As if someone had dumped a bucket of snow over her head to snap her back to reality.
Reality.
Petar.
‘Thanks for showing me my room, Mr North,’ Ana said, forcing herself to put some distance between them and step into the room.
She fully intended to use his formal name from now on, and it wasn’t a joke any more. Formality was good. It was required. She had no place flirting with this man. Apart from the fact she’d meant to share her wedding night with another man tonight, Rhys was also working for Marko, for the palace. This was all kinds of inappropriate.
‘I need to phone my fiancé,’ she said.
As she said fiancé, Rhys blinked. Or maybe she imagined he’d reacted.
In fact, his expression was so stony, so unreadable, it seemed plausible she’d imagined the entire past few minutes.
It would seem Rhys was keen to forget it had happened.
Good. She’d forget it too. No problem. This was an infinitesimal blip amongst the catastrophic screw-ups of the past twenty-four hours.
But as Rhys left her in her room, Ana had to work hard to ignore the little voice in her head—the little voice that had caused her so many problems today—that told her a man like Rhys North was not at all easy to forget.
ANA HAD BEEN in her room for over an hour—easily enough time for Rhys to brief the palace guards on his property’s security system, including the mechanics of the fibre-optic perimeter sensors and state-of-the-art surveillance cameras.
He’d had to tweak a few things—mainly because he generally reviewed the footage from his many cameras only if he had a reason to, but while Princess Ana was here one of the guards would be monitoring the cameras 24/7. Although in his five years here Rhys hadn’t seen anything more interesting on film than the goatlike chamois and several curious birds—the golden eagle his favourite—Marko wasn’t taking any risks, and therefore nor was Rhys.
When Ana finally emerged, Rhys had his head in his fridge, trying to work out what on earth he was going to feed a princess for dinner.
‘Excuse me, Mr North?’ she said, very politely.
Rhys took a step back so he could see her past the open fridge door. She looked different: she’d tidied her hair into a long ponytail that fell over one shoulder and she’d washed off the rest of her wedding make-up. It didn’t look as if she’d put any more make-up on, and she’d lost her dramatic eyelashes and the perfect shape of her brows and lips, but she was still—and this was frustrating to Rhys—just as pretty.
The fridge started beeping at him for keeping the door open too long, and he slammed it closed with far more force than necessary, making Ana jump.
He didn’t feel at all comfortable with what had happened in the doorway of her room. Or even earlier, when he’d first seen her. That had been easily dismissed—she was an attractive woman, who wouldn’t gawk at her just a little? But in her room…it had felt pretty intense. Impossible to ignore.
He had wanted Ana. It had been a primal thing, a primal need—something he hadn’t experienced in so very long he hadn’t thought it was possible any more.
Sure, he’d looked at women since Jessica died, but he hadn’t needed a woman. He certainly hadn’t planned to be celibate for so long, but casual sex just didn’t appeal—in fact, it felt somewhat disloyal to Jess just to sleep with some random woman.
Although he could just imagine Jess telling him he was an idiot, and could practically hear her voice telling him it was impossible to cheat on a dead person.
Jess had always been pragmatic. She never would have expected or wanted him to be single for the rest of his life.
But sex with Jess had been special. He’d slept with a few women before Jess, but it had never been with them as it had been with Jess. With other women it had been fun, but it hadn’t been all-consuming. And now he’d experienced more, he didn’t want to return to less.
And tonight… Tonight those moments with Ana had felt like more. Different from Jess, but equally intense. And that intensity had shocked him.
He hadn’t been looking for it, and certainly hadn’t expected to discover it with a woman he was being paid to protect.
And, more important, he wasn’t sure if he wanted to want someone other than Jess. If, even after all these years, he was ready.
‘Mr North?’ Ana prompted.
‘At your service,’ Rhys said, with a deliberate grin. ‘How can I help?’
Her gaze travelled over his face, but it wasn’t the sensual exploration of before—now it looked as if she was trying to work out what was going on. Clearly his smile was not entirely