Page 11 of The Princess and the SEAL

Chapter 4

Giselle

MY LIPS BURNED HOT. HIS mouth, his tongue, his heat. I had never in my life known that a kiss could ignite me like this.

But the cool breeze dampened the flame.

As we walked down the street, the desire to flee threatened to overtake me entirely. My heart pounded, and sweat beaded on my forehead. What if Ryan was a serial killer? Or a rapist? How utterly naïve was I? Even though he had tackled the man who’d mugged me, and shown me his military ID, that didn’t mean he was a good man.

But when I was with him, I didn’t worry about my safety. As stupid as that sounded, I would rather be with him than be alone at the château. And the thought of checking in now without any documents and money was dreadful. I did not want to call my father and have him say he told me so.

It was only for one night.

Ryan had correctly guessed that I’d been booked into a five-star hotel. I’d considered arguing with him, insisting on having him stay there with me, but then gossip would start about me spending the night with a handsome stranger. That was definitely publicity I didn’t need. Though I didn’t love my fiancé, I had no desire to disgrace him, my father, or my country. The press would never let me hear the end of it.

He easily found the entrance to the bed-and-breakfast as if he had stayed here before. La Maison Chantal was on the outskirts of town. Before we went inside, he took my hand in his. A jolt surged through my body at the stark contrast of his rough, tanned skin against my delicate, pale hand.

“Do you need to wear a disguise? Or I can give you some cash, you can check in alone, and I can sneak up to your bedroom later.” He playfully tugged on my hair. “You’re a princess—I could climb up your hair.”

“Charming. No, I should be fine, since this bed-and-breakfast is tucked away. I’ll just use my best American accent. If we tell the owners we’re married, I doubt they will question it.”

He stroked my arm. “Married? I haven’t even fucked you yet.”

The hair on my arm prickled my skin. The way he said yet riled me, as if sleeping with him was inevitable, which it most certainly was not. His voice was so deep and dirty, raw, and masculine. So unlike that of the men I’d been around my entire life. “Nor will you ever, sir. You can introduce me as Audrey.”

He didn’t seem to get my Roman Holiday reference. He’d probably never seen or heard of that movie, my personal favorite.

And I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that I may have even prayed to meet some handsome stranger and travel uninhibited on my final trip as a single woman. One memory of a passionate affair to last me through what would most likely be a loveless marriage. But in my fantasies, the object of my affection had been a cultured gentleman, well-read and worldly, not a crass Navy SEAL with an incredible body, dirty mouth, and a filthy mind.

He led me inside the white doors. The walls were made out of brick, and a gold chandelier hung low from the ceiling, almost hitting Ryan’s head. A vase of fresh-cut flowers was perched on an entry table, and there was a crackling blaze in the hearth. A small sitting area was filled with books. It was as if I was walking into an old family friend’s home. I adored this charming place on sight.

An older silver-haired lady wearing a white scarf greeted us. “Bonjour.”

Ryan briefly smiled, revealing his deep dimples. “Hi. My wife and I have a reservation. Mr. and Mrs. Shelton.” He squeezed me in his arms in a complete embrace, our chests flush together. I could feel his heart beating strongly. I resisted the voice in my head that told me to pull away, especially since he smelled incredible. Not of expensive cologne and aged cognac, no. Woodsy, earthy. Like he had just chopped wood in a forest and bathed in a babbling brook.

Naked. What would he look like naked? I forced that image out of my head.

“Bienvenue à Bayeux. Is this your honeymoon?”

Ryan’s hand dropped from my shoulders and gripped my waist possessively, and I forced a smile, my body melting from his touch. “Sure is. I can’t wait to get her alone.”

I stepped on his foot, but he didn’t even flinch.

Ugh, I was doomed.

“Oh, we love newlyweds.” She handed us a large metal key, and we followed her up the stairs where she showed us to our room. “I’ll be sure to give you lovebirds plenty of privacy. Breakfast is served every morning at nine, or I can prepare a tray for your room. And there is a computer in the lobby with free Internet.”

Ryan moved our luggage into the room, and then thanked her, and she left.

Before I could say a word, Ryan lifted me up and carried me over the threshold.

Like a bride.

I laughed. Would my fiancé even be able to pick me up?

Ryan placed me on the bed, and I looked around the room. It was small but cozy, with a tiny fireplace and a large bay window. Soft mauve wallpaper adorned the walls, and a queen-size bed made of cherry wood stood in the center.

A quick scan revealed there was no sofa for me to sleep on. Would he keep his promise to sleep on the floor? Or would we share the bed?