Don't Tempt Me by Kimberly Nee

Author:Kimberly Nee [Nee, Kimberly]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fantasy
Publisher: The Wild Rose Press
Published: 2016-01-15T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirteen

A white marble bench rose out of the darkness as Daniela rounded the glass walls of Iarnia Palace’s conservatory. She briefly wondered how many couples had snuck out of the ball in order to dally in the darkened glass room, and she even managed a smile, thinking of Luka’s own failed attempt to steal a kiss from Erika Orlov amongst the orchids. A much better kiss had awaited him, even if it meant tumbling down a darkened corridor.

But her smile was fleeting as she sank onto the bench. Cold marble stung her through her silk and petticoats, but her feet were even colder, and her slippers were wet from an unseen, but most definitely deep, puddle between the rows of rose bushes. Her right slipper dripped water and squished with each step. Her toes ached from the cold. Actually ached.

She wrapped her arms about herself, rubbing to keep the cold at bay as best she could. She should return inside, where the temperatures were far above freezing. She should return to her chambers. Helga would no doubt have the fire blazing hot. A blazing hot fire was just what she needed. If nothing else, her feet would thaw.

But at the same time, she didn’t wish to share space with Helga. Why was she agreeing to her servant’s admonishment that Luka was not the man for her? Helga meant well. She truly did. And she’d spent so many years with their family, she was almost like a mother to her. But at the same time, she wasn’t her mother. How could Helga possibly know what man was meant for Daniela? Even Daniela didn’t know what man was meant for her. She’d thought, at one time, Antonin was the only man she could ever love. And with his death, she vowed never to let herself love again. But then came Peter. And while they were happy, she knew, deep down, the love she felt for him didn’t burn white with its intensity the way it had with Antonin. They were close friends, occasional lovers, but neither was the one great love of the other’s life. Peter stood in the shadow of the man who would be king and knew he would always fall short. And she wasn’t the woman of his dreams, either. But that was all right. Theirs was a marriage based on friendship more than love, convenience more than passion, but it suited them both.

And with his death, Daniela resigned herself to being alone. Resigned herself to never feeling the fires of passion threaten to immolate her again. She even managed to convince herself that it was fine, that it was for the best anyway. Alone was easy. Alone was safe. Her heart would never be at risk again.

But then she met General Luka Morovic, and everything changed.

She groaned as she leaned back against the cold marble rail. Why was it every time she acquiesced and accepted that she was meant to be alone, another man came along to

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