Whispered Lies

Her answer was an indignant huff. She straightened her back and held her hand out for the handle of her luggage, pursed lips now the ripe color of a split watermelon.

All at once, he was hungry. Another look at those legs and he was starving in a way food wouldn’t sate him.

She moved her hands toward her hips.

Carlos tensed. “Don’t.”

“It’s okay.” She stuck her hands on each hip and nothing happened, no alarm buzzed on his phone. “I moved the little bugger to a more suitable spot.”

Carlos tapped a thumb against the handle of her suitcase, seeing this next couple days as a battle of wills. An a

The more she took on the air of nobility, the less he’d have to worry about this wild attraction to her.

He passed her the handle of her suitcase. “We’ll discuss that later, but don’t change anything I do ever again.”

That should get her back up a bit, bring out the truly obnoxious arrogance he expected from the highly born.

Instead, the air went out of Gabrielle with that one reprimand. “I’m sorry, I was just, you know, worried I would bump the thing and cause a commotion.” Her eyes were skittering around anywhere but his face.

He’d embarrassed her, again. Seemed to be his specialty with this woman. Carlos took her chin to make her look at him. “No harm done, really.”

Doubt stared back at him so he added, “I had no idea you were doing all that, but you look very pretty.” Compliments fed a woman’s confidence, but in this case he meant every word.

Her gaze softened. Those melon-colored lips puckered, then rounded.

Stupid comment, because now he was thinking about how attractive she really was and how much he’d like to kiss her again. She looked more kissable than she had when she woke in his arms on the first flight. Hard to imagine, but true. When she’d come out of the nightmare, he’d stared into eyes puffy from heavy sleep, hair mussed, and a face so i

Gabrielle’s lips parted. Her tongue slipped out and brushed her bottom lip, leaving a slick path.

Carlos’s body clenched. This was going to be a problem.

A man wearing an overcoat made an abrupt turn next to her.

Carlos snatched Gabrielle to his side.

“You’re going to wrinkle my clothes worse than the luggage has,” she groused, and smoothed her jacket.

He couldn’t believe how fast her mood switched from angry to hurt to irritated. “Wrinkling your clothes is the least of my concerns when someone makes a quick move near you.”

She twisted, eyes searching the crowd. “Who?”

“Nobody, this time,” he whispered. “But you have to be on guard from here on and do what I tell you.” He gave her that last order in a nicer tone.

For all his effort, he got a droll look in return that said she was getting tired of being told what to do. This was exactly why Carlos had to escort her. Retter would have lost patience by now and intimidated her into submission, which could have turned her catatonic or screaming.

Or Retter would have seduced her to get his way.

That would have worked, but just the idea of Retter getting his hands on her in any way unleashed a black mood Carlos didn’t want to identify the source of.

Korbin and Rae passed by, but Korbin slowed and ran an appraising gaze up and down Gabrielle.

That just pissed Carlos off, which didn’t improve his tone when he told Gabrielle, “Let’s go.”

She made another huffy noise that he translated as she’d go but that he hadn’t heard the end of her complaints. He nudged her toward baggage claim again.

Carlos kept stealing glances, trying to decide what was different about Gabrielle beyond her clothes, hair pi

Male heads turned, but she didn’t appear to notice.

Carlos put on his aviator sunshades and sca

The little man held a white card with ascension below a gold crest with a flying falcon.

Gabrielle stepped up next to Carlos.

The driver said, “Mademoiselle S?”

“Oui, but I prefer English since my companion does not speak French fluently.” Her terse tone indicated any other action would be unacceptable.

Carlos considered giving this guy a shorter nose when the driver sniffed in disdain at his not speaking the local language.

“As you wish, Mademoiselle S, and I will call ahead to inform the office of your request.” The driver took over the luggage except for Gabrielle’s computer bag, which Carlos kept.

He leaned close to her so the driver wouldn’t hear. “You just keep impressing me.”

The smile she tried to smother spread her full lips wide. The dimples winked again. She was the vision of a young, carefree, sophisticated woman in that moment, taking Carlos’s breath.

A woman who might have more secrets than him.

Dangerous combination.

Carlos and Gabrielle loaded into a black stretch limo and rode silently as the car left the airport. He rarely saw cities from this vantage point. Normally he came in under the cover of darkness and left just as silently.

Carlos had expected his cell phone to ding with incoming text messages, but when he checked, he had no signal. “Is there no cellular service here?”

“Yes, but the service has been affected this week by major repairs being made to aging towers. It will normally return quickly…within an hour.”

When the driver headed due east instead of turning north, Gabrielle questioned his route.

“There is a detour for a repair being done on the direct route that would detain us longer than taking the road through la cité,” the driver explained, using a local term for “the city.”

A tiny gasp escaped Gabrielle and Carlos smiled at her excitement.

“The castle was built in the 1100s,” she told him, quietly explaining how there had been a bloody crusade here at one time. The driver kept to the paved highway to Carcasso

“Sixty towers and barbicans,” she continued, playing his personal tour guide.

Carlos had to admit the sight of such a well-preserved medieval city with miles of walls was an incredible vision, and he’d have asked what a barbican was if not for enjoying her voice too much to interrupt. The castle took on a magical quality when she described it.

“When the apples fall and rot on the ground, it can smell like cider,” she went on.

“Mmm.” But Carlos was inhaling the delicate perfume she must have put on in the airport. And his sightseeing had narrowed to observing the graceful shape of her slender neck. So inviting and so damn kissable. He should have been looking at the cobbled streets and landscape, but nothing beyond the window held his attention like the woman next to him.

“This castle was supposedly the inspiration for the movie Sleeping Beauty and I think they used it in Robin Hood,” she finished breathlessly as they exited Carcasso

“Looking forward to seeing it again?” He wanted to run his finger along her neck, to feel the smooth skin.

To touch so much more.

“Oui,” she whispered, then met his gaze. Her eyes flared for an instant. Just enough to let him know she’d picked up on his thoughts.