The Soldier Prince by Kate Hardy

Author:Kate Hardy
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2014-12-19T18:30:00+00:00

CHAPTER SEVEN

MARCO FOUND HIMSELF looking forward to seeing Becca, and he loved the fact that she’d talk to him about everything under the sun. Except one thing: she was seriously secretive about her past. She changed the subject every time he asked a question about her. He knew absolutely nothing about her family—were her parents still together, still alive?

‘You’re a puzzle,’ he said.

She frowned. ‘I’m not with you.’

‘I know nothing about you.’

‘There’s nothing much to know.’ She shrugged. ‘I’m a physiotherapist, I specialise in treating hands, and that’s about it.’

‘So this thing in the evenings that you do—is it a course? You mentioned that you were thinking about studying acupuncture.’

‘No, I’m not studying acupuncture yet—I’m still in the process of choosing a course.’

He noticed that she’d switched the subject again, and she hadn’t told him what she was doing in the evenings. Why wouldn’t she open up to him? Did she think he’d hurt her? And how could he get her to trust him?

Though at the same time he knew she was right: he couldn’t offer her a future because his duty to his family and his country had to come first.

Yet he needed her.

And he thought that she might need him.

Somehow they’d manage to find a way to make this work.

Somehow.

* * *

‘I can’t stay for dinner, but is the offer of the spa pool still open?’ Becca asked, later that day.

‘It most certainly is—OK, so it means we don’t get to see the very few stars you can see in the London night sky, but we can watch the clouds going past instead. How about after lunch?’ he suggested.

‘That’d be great.’ She gave him a shy smile that left him tingling. ‘I brought my costume with me. And a bag for your arm, and tape.’

‘That’s good.’

‘But, for now...’

‘I know, I know,’ he said. ‘Exercises.’

In the middle of the afternoon Marco changed into his swimming trunks and Becca taped up his arm to make sure that his splint wouldn’t get wet. He climbed into the pool and settled back next to her with a contented sigh.

‘This,’ he said, ‘is paradise. I love London.’

‘Wouldn’t you rather be in Sirmontane, in the mountains?’ she asked.

‘Not when I can’t ride a bike or go skiing,’ he said wryly. ‘Of course I love my country, but there’s something special for me about London. There’s music, there’s drama, there are museums and art galleries—you can eat foods from practically any country in the world, walk in the park, dance in the middle of a fountain...’

‘Well, you can’t dance in the middle of a fountain—not unless you bag your arm up like that, and I think that might cramp your style a bit,’ she teased.

He laughed, pulled her close with his good arm and kissed her. ‘I don’t think it cramps my style at all.’

‘No?’ she teased.

God, he couldn’t resist her. ‘No.’ His expression grew hot, and this time his kiss wasn’t all sweetness and gentleness. It was demanding and enticing and promising, all at the same time.

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