Her advisors had even suggested John might have murdered his brother to get closer to her.
With this daring deed, John had ripped up that piece of logic as well as her need for restraint.
John was eminently dangerous and thus exciting. Who else did she know who’d been to Hell and back? Who else had eyes that burned?
Who else would dare accost her at midnight in her bedroom, with his knife at her throat and his weight making her bed dip—reminding her of the weight of men and the presence of muscles under their clothes?
Hmm.
It only took her a second to run through her options.
He wanted her to come with him.
Staying meant he might murder her. That was a negative.
Going with him meant abduction and an unsure destination. They’d be chasing the trail of Xander’s kidnappers across rough roads, over mountains, rivers. She might get to sail a boat and actually do something apart from study how to rule, look fabulous in a gown, and tell servants to serve her.
It meant she might find Xander while also having an adventure. It meant circumventing the vow she’d made to him without blame falling on her. Neither of them could have predicted this. Plus, her heart wanted her to go.
Statistically speaking, she would never get the chance to do anything a princess should not do, except for now, today, at the hands of her fiancée’s brother.
It would be dangerous. She bit her lip, released it. “Let’s go, then.”
With his hand on her arm, he allowed her to rise. “Pack a small bag of underthings and a change of clothes. Dress in clothes that will withstand the travails of the open road.”
Underthings. She blushed lightly at the thought of him watching her do that. Her servants, such as Nurse Withers, were all female. “I… don’t think I have any of those sorts of clothes.”
“Oh. Damn.”
They settled on a pair of slim, amber-colored riding leggings with a shirt and matching dark blue coat with fairly modest golden epaulettes, and boots—two pair, one for riding, as well as the spare clothing in a bag. He slung the bag over his shoulder and drew her out onto the balcony, where she immediately halted.
“You expect me to climb down this? Are you insane? This is unacceptable. I cannot.”
“Then I will carry you.” He glowered.
“Oh, well, this I can help with. Estimated weight of you, of me…” She muttered as she ran through the math and the known strength of men his size. “Unless you’re a god with wings, no. Chance of you dying is high. Me, ditto.”
“Ahhh.” His mouth stayed open.
“Do you need the exact result? I am really good at math. Perfect, some say. I kill numbers.”
“No. Fuck.”
Had he not thought this through properly? Where was his detailed plan marked up with comments and advisory cautions? His appended plans once the initial one was disapproved by the senate? Oh. Yes. Not happening.
“There is a secret way out I could lead us to? Never used, but in place in case of siege so we can sneak supplies into the palace, or sorties under the walls. Raiding parties. All of that.” She waved vaguely.
“Good. Find it, uhhh, or else.” Dipping his glasses, he showed her a glimpse of the fire in his eyes.
A frisson of excitement ran amok, but only for a second. She twisted her mouth, pretending fire eyes were no longer her thing. “Come. Next time, plan better.”
Was that a disgusted sigh she heard? She did not bother to look back. Smuggling them both past the palace servants who were up polishing the silver, or whatever they did at this hour, would take some finesse.
They wove through the passages and then the tunnel beneath, where it dived below the palace walls and came to a small door with heavy timbers reinforced by steel ribbon. It was locked. She had no key, and this was a renowned Beregnian lock.
“Darn. Unpickable and impenetrable.”
“Do not use those words. Impenetrable? I can kill anything, well almost anything.”
“It’s a door,” she pointed out, just in case he was thicker than she’d thought.
“Shhh. Let me find its heart.”
Crazy time, but she was used to dealing with geriatric ministers who brought their latest puppies to the cabinet meetings to pee on the draperies and table legs. She would watch him attempt to do cardiac surgery on a door.
It took numerous attempts but he did eventually manage to kick it in some vulnerable place, and the door ruptured outward. Po eyed John as he dusted off his coat and pants.
Not an average man, at all.
Beyond the door and a small weed-tangled passageway, a darkening forest could be glimpsed.
Goodie, she thought, as she stepped out and smelled the fresh scent of rain, trampled ferns, and animal droppings, and various wildlife things not found in palaces.
“The horses are to the north, at the edge of this. Follow me. Oh, wait. No running away for you.” He pulled a circle of rope from beneath his coat.
She considered pointing out to John that she’d just spent hours helping him escape, but then he did a swift and complex knot and cinched the rope about her wrist.
The rough strands prickled her skin. The rope circled her, tightening as he adjusted it until it was firm but not restricting her circulation.
She stared down at it, feeling decidedly odder than ever before.
How dare he tie her.
Except he had, and it felt… good, comforting, and it made her horny. Horny was a word she had learned from the maids, when they tittered and told stories they thought she could not hear.
A tingle she only felt on those nights when she dared to play with herself, in private, ran down her, past her rising, firming nipples, and
