Not Princess Material

Chapter 27

Sky looked at the door when it was flung open—Lonan didn't move from his relaxed position against the wall—when someone stalked into the room. It wasn't a rescuing force storming in to save her it was simply Campbell. She turned to stare out the window attempting to ignore the blood splashed across his clothing.

"Well, my dear, it would seem someone wants you back very badly."

"So it does," she answered in a dull voice.

"They fought bravely, despite their foolish decision to attempt to free you."

Anger won out over her attempt to remain aloof against his baiting. She jumped to her feet and rushed across the room to face him. "How many, Campbell, how many of those men died so you could prove a point? Prove that you can hold me?"

His hand rested on the hilt of his sword. "It isn't a point that needs to be proven, love. You are mine, you belong to me and I will do what needs to be done to hold on to what is mine."

"I am not yours, I never was! I belong to no one!" she shouted.

His brows rose, it was the only outward sign he reacted to her words. "What about my brother?"

"Codey and I were friends, nothing more. I will never belong to any man, ever," she growled the words at him before turning to stalk back to where she had been sitting. She halted to glance back at him. "Especially not you."

His hand flashed out, fingers wrapping around her wrist. "Do not ever speak to me like that again. Those men invaded my home and attempted to take from me they deserved what they got." He flung her hand from him, his gaze went to Lonan. "You are to remain and guard her in case they attempt to come back." He turned and left, the door slamming behind him loudly.

She glanced at Lonan. "Not going to follow him like a faithful lapdog? Rally against such orders that are beneath you?""

"Do I look like a ball of fluff with a lolling tongue?"

She raked her eyes over him. "A mutt yes, ball of fluff, no." His bark of gruff laughter surprised her.

"I like you, Princess, I really do." He pushed away from the wall and moved to take a seat on the small sofa in the little sitting area. "Campbell doesn't deserve you, you are too good for him. He's beneath you. And not in the social standing sort of way, either, in the moral sort of way."

She remained where she was, watching him as he stretched an arm over the back of the little sofa that barely contained his large frame. He was a rough and tumble kind of man. He would never fit in around a palace. Tall, broad-shouldered, muscular, he was a man built for war. She cocked her head to the side. "You don't like him, do you?"

"It pays well."

It wasn't an answer to her question. "And who is it you need the money for? Why do you sell your soul to the devil, who is worth whoring yourself out for?"

His gaze was steady it never wavered from hers and she didn't catch anything in it at her words, but the fingers that lay on the back of the couch twitched, curling into a fist. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

A smile curled her lips. "Oh, I'm sure you do. Get me out here and I'll make certain you get whatever money you need."

His eyes lowered. "Sorry, I wish it were that easy."

"What does he have on you?"

"Again, I don't know what you're talking about."

She shook her head and returned to her window seat, leaving him in silence. She wondered how many of the men Arthur sent in, if it was Arthur, had survived. How many had Campbell killed?