The Untamed Prince’s Careless Mate

Emily Arthur arrived at the kingdom of Windsor. She was instructed by the aides, stay in this room and not wander around the house. This section of the castle is protected by stringent security measures, including alarms and other monitoring devices. “HIS HIGHNESS “will be here in short time . Emily was given a harsh look while the prince's aide talked in a harsh manner of English. As if, after she'd finally broken through the gates of royal formality and obedient secretaries, she'd go berserk once she was inside the royal sanctum and start acting inappropriately. As if, after spending weeks working in the windsor royal archives and living in her suite on the opposite side of the castle courtyard, she would find that being in close quarters with real-life royalty is too much for her to handle! She had no prior experience with the prince. He never even bothered to go through the open door and into the functional archive room. She bit her lip to keep from sighing in exasperation. Did she appear to be the kind of lady who would be intimidated by opulence and wealth? Or, would you rather be impressed by a man whose reputation as a womaniser and adventurer rivalled even that of his notorious robber baron ancestors? Emily was preoccupied with other, more essential matters. Her innermost feelings were rife with excitement, but it had nothing to do with the playboy royal she was about to meet. This was her opportunity to start over and establish a new reputation. After Ethan's cruel betrayal, she finally had the opportunity to demonstrate her worth to both her coworkers and to herself. After using her in the way that he did, she no longer had any self-assurance. She was harmed professionally, but what he did to her was even worse; he hurt her so deeply that she wanted nothing more than to go away and lick her wounds. She vowed never to put her faith in another person again. There were some scars that would never heal. Nevertheless, she was in a position here and now to at least restart her professional life. She understood that this was a once in a lifetime chance, and she was prepared to rise to the occasion. Prince Logan had been unable to meet with her for the last 10 days due to his heavy workload. It had been impossible to work her into his busy schedule. It is obvious that being an expert on old books was not high on his list of priorities. The idea sparked a spark of rage deep inside of her. She was sick of being taken advantage of, ignored, and forgotten about. Had he intended to throw her off by surprising her with a visit so late in the day? Emily arched her back and clasped her hands together in her lap while sitting demurely with her ankles crossed under the enormous chair. "Of course, I have no plans to leave. I won't go till His Majesty arrives; I'll be comfortable here until then.' The aide's suspicious demeanour made it abundantly evident that he suspected that she was merely biding her time until she could slip away and gawk at the VIPs who were in the ballroom. Another option is to steal the silverware. She was getting irritated by the way he hovered around her, so she reached into her briefcase and pulled out a stack of papers. She started reading after she merely smiled at the assistant as a gesture of politeness. "You're doing really well." She looked up as soon as she heard his voice disrupt her thoughts. "There is a chance that the prince will be held back." If there is anything that you require, please ring the bell.' He pointed to a switch on the wall that was hidden by the intricate wood carving that surrounded the enormous fireplace. In the event that you require them, refreshments will be brought over to you. 'Thank you.' Emily gave him a nod and then watched him hurry off. Was 'delay' code? Was the prince preoccupied with wooing one of the ball's most stunning ladies? Prince Logan of windsor , who was next in line to the throne of Dlamini, was rumoured to be a consummate playboy, if the rumours were true. Meeting a book curator would be lower on his list of priorities than pursuing romantic relationships with women. Emily chose to disregard a bubbling sense of outrage. Her attention wandered to the bookcases that reached all the way up to the ceiling. Her pulse accelerated in response to the unavoidable glimmer of interest. Old books. She recognised the musty aroma of stale paper and leather in the air. If it turned out that he was going to be late. Emily didn't give herself any time to have second thoughts before she headed to the closest bookcase. It was unrealistic to expect that it would turn up anything as interesting as what she had discovered in the archives, but there was no reason for her to waste time looking over documents that she already knew by heart. It was probably going to be a few hours before her hesitant host arrived. 'You must excuse me, Laura. I must attend to some business at the moment.Logan freed himself from the countess's clinging hand and continued his pursuit. 'So late? There must be some other, more enjoyable way to pass the night, right? Her crimson lips parted, and her silvery eyes conveyed a message in a way that was all too familiar. There is a whiff of avarice mixed in with the s****l allure and the exhilaration. She moved forward while her breasts, which were only partially covered by her ball gown, strained against it. Her emerald-studded cleavage was designed to attract the viewer's attention. Logan had never had trouble attracting lovers, but he was sick of being pursued by women like Laura. Laura was his fifth lover in as many years. His guidelines were easy to understand. First, there will be no commitment over the long run. Ever. Emotional connection, or what other people could call love, was a mirage that he was well aware was both risky and untrue. Second, he was the one who performed the pursuing. He needed something to distract him, but only on his own terms. Despite the fact that she had true s****l desire, Laura was another woman who had her sights set on getting married. Permanency. Royal prestige. Wealth. At this point in time, he had more pressing worries than catering to the desires of an ambitious socialite. "Unfortunately, it's a meeting I won't be able to get out of." He looked up and drew the attention of the steward who was hovering near the entrance as he did so. "Your automobile is in this lot." Before bringing her out of the room, he raised her hand and lightly kissed it on the back as they walked together. "I'll call you," she murmured, her tone seductive as she spoke. Logan could grin comfortably, knowing that there was no way she could get past his guards and reach him. After five minutes, when the last of the guests had left, he dismissed his personal staff and began to walk down the corridor. As he did so, his thoughts went back to the conversation he had just had with Sagio . Logan would have refused to comply with the request of any other person to remain confined in this location throughout the winter. There was a roiling current building up in his blood that compelled him to get out and keep himself busy by doing something. The thought of being confined to his mountainous principality for another six months gave him a case of cabin fever. Even though he was at home, he had the feeling of being confined. Constricted. Fallen prey to the shadow that scratches from within. The only thing that saved him from giving in was remaining constantly active and distracted. Kept him sane. Logan angrily flicked his cape off one shoulder and ran one hand through his hair before doing so. That was yet another reason to be grateful to his distant cousin who was on his way to becoming king. An evening spent donning the archaic garb of two centuries ago. Yet he'd given his promise. He must aid Sagio . Unrest had been renewed after decades of relative calm as a result of the recent passing of the previous king, who was Sagio's father. The principality of Windsor , which Logan ruled, was at peace, but in other areas, tensions that had come dangerously close to sparking a civil war a century before had flared up again. The potential for harm could be avoided with careful management, but they couldn't take any chances. Together with Sagio , he needed to maintain order. In their country of Dlamini , which still adhered to the traditions of monarchy, this meant presenting a calm and unified front in the days leading up to the crowning of his cousin and the reopening of parliament. So there was Logan, slicing ribbons and presiding over balls. He zigzagged into another corridor, his appetite whetted for excitement. But leading a commando group to disarm enemy combatants was not as easy as it seemed at first glance. There was no physical conflict. Yet. Him the spectres of Logan's past began to stir, his stomach wrenched, serving as a visual warning of how fast misfortune may strike. He pushed the remaining agony to the side with some effort and looked at the time on his watch. He was running way behind schedule for his very last commitment of the day. As soon as it was over, he would run away for a few hours to have some peace and quiet. Put the Rolls Royce through its paces on the mountain pass's hairpin turns once you've driven it over the mountain pass. Logan increase up his steps as he got closer to the enticing sense of independence, even if it was only brief. Another turn in the winding passageway led to the discovery of the door to the library. Automatically, he slowed down, recognising but refusing to give in to the shiver of discomfort that was running up and down his spine. Regardless of what the staff anticipated, this room would never serve as his study. It had previously been his father and brother's room. Logan favoured the portability of a laptop, which he could use in a variety of settings. Preferred not to be reminded that he had to walk in the shoes of deceased men. There are far too many dead men. Various images began to come together. Chris, his talented and skilled older brother, was in the forefront of the situation. The person who ought to be at this place in place of Logan. She had passed away due to Logan's actions. The jolt of awareness froze into a jagged spear of ice that stabbed me in the gut. He was overcome by the familiar feeling of guilt. Every breath tore his chest and throat apart with excruciating pain. He came to terms with the fact that it would happen. His punishment. The burden that he would have to carry forever. In the end, he was successful in slowing his breathing and getting his legs to move. There was no one in the room. Even though there was a fire burning in the fireplace and lamps were lit, no one was there to argue with him about the condition of the archives. If the situation was that critical, one would have expected her to remain. That's excellent news. Within the next ten minutes, he might be out on the open road. He was moving away from the table when his attention was drawn to a stack of papers. A worn-out briefcase was lying sagging on the floor. Instantaneously, he became aware, the focus of his stare becoming more concentrated. Then he heard it, a swish from above that was so faint it was nearly inaudible. Instincts that were trained on the brink of extinction became more acute. He demonstrated by flexing his fingers. After a moment, he turned around to confront the intruder with his hand on the hilt of the ceremonial sword he was carrying. After staring for what seemed like an eternity, he finally let go of his hand. A mushroom had made its way into the room and was causing havoc. A formless jumble of brown and grey was perched on top of the ladder that had been attached to the bookcases. His attention was drawn to a long granny cardigan in the colour of dust, and beneath it, a volumetric charcoal skirt was spread out across the top of the ladder, which was now being used as a seat. It turned out to be a woman, albeit her clothing appeared to be something that had grown from the wet ground of a forest. A light from a wall sconce illuminated the person's dark hair, which was scraped back, as well as the glimmer of spectacles that were placed on top of a large book. Her face was obscured by hands that were white-gloved and held the volume up. And below...his attention was drawn on the swaying motion of a leg that was exposed up to the area just above the knee. That is one pretty alluring leg. Logan moved closer while thankfully diverting his mind from the sombre memories he had been having. Skin like moonlight. A well-defined calf, a slim ankle, and a clean foot. feet that, with each swing, gave off an alluring wiggling motion. As his eyes moved back up her leg, a manly appreciation began to well up within him. Even her knee looked terrific! It wasn't fair to tease a man who was tense and in serious need of anything to take his mind off of things. He made his way to the base of the ladder and picked up a shoe that had been left behind. Brown shoes with a flat sole that are slender and tidy. Unbelievably plain and boring.