Page 3 of Scarred Crown

“You could say that,” I mutter and turn back to the fire. No point in letting Julia realize I’m aware she’s here. She can come speak to me.

Delay. Delay. Delay.

Her presence is guaranteed to ruin my trip. If her message is pressing, she shouldn’t be flirting with my personal tour guide. Whatever has happened is bad enough for her to come, but not so bad for her to seek me out with any additional urgency.

The woman beside me isn’t bothered by my lack of response, and she natters away. Not a clue what she’s on about, but she’s invading my space like a bad rash. Her hands are on my arm, and now her lips suckle under my ear. I could stop her, and without Julia here, I probably would. These trips aren’t about getting laid. Pussy grows on trees, but solitude? Priceless.

Instead of basking in my own company, I’m letting this woman, whose name I can’t remember, smother me with attention I really don’t want to prove a point to another woman who couldn’t care less.

I suck back more of my sundowner and wonder if I can get drunk enough to tolerate this woman’s slobbery interest for the rest of the night.

“Excuse me, Your Royal Highness,” my tour guide, Kafil, taps on my shoulder that isn’t occupied by the annoying woman.

She clings on tighter, and I turn my head to acknowledge the guy who’s been showing me around for the last three weeks. He’s tall, thin, and almost as black as the night that’ll drop around us soon. A good sense of humor when he lets himself loosen up around me. The royal title strikes again.

“You have a visitor. She says she must speak to you.”

“Must speak to me?” Sounds like Julia. No room for debate or argument. Two of my specialties. I raise my eyebrows and extract myself from the leech.

“Are you coming back?” Her big brown eyes peer up to me out of her sunburned face. She should have employed some sun cream today.

She was prettier before she heard Kafil refer to me as royalty at dinner. Now she’s just another woman looking to bed a prince. “Who knows?” I grin. “I suppose it depends on why I’m wanted.”

Leech woman must have used the little Wi-Fi we have to identify me after she took that discreet picture of the coffee maker just behind my head at dinner. She could have asked for a photo instead of the coyness I find tiring. I’ve been photographed enough over the years—not always for the best reasons.

I follow Kafil to the communications hut, and the ache under my breastbone resumes its dull throbbing at the mere idea of Julia so close by. Through the screened door of the canvas tent, her long chestnut hair is drawn back in a tight bun, and her glasses perch on her nose, framing her blue-gray eyes. I hate the prickling of my skin and the thin sheen of sweat dampening my armpits. Nerves. Attraction. Two reactions I’ve learned to mask where Julia is concerned. She doesn’t want to see them, prefers they don’t exist.

I hold back the edge of the canvas and mesh while I slip inside, and I stop in front of her, hands thrust in the pockets of my safari pants. Her appearance has already ruined my peace of mind. If she’s come with bad news to wreck my trip, she can speak first.

Her gaze catalogs me from my overgrown hair to my beard, over my khaki clothing, to the sandals on my feet. Once upon a time, her blue-gray eyes owned my soul, and I gave her my secrets under a starry sky. So long ago.

“Prince Nicholas, I’ve come to escort you home.”

Prince Nicholas. My royal title coming from her lips pisses me off. At one time, I was Nick to her, and I liked it much better. Two can play this game.

“Secretary Jensen, while I enjoy the implication you’re my—” I meet her gaze with a smirk “—escort, I’ve still got three weeks left here.”

“Change of plans, I’m afraid.” She touches the edge of her glasses.

Not a hint of a reaction at my goading words. Disappointing. I’ll have to up my game. “Why would I change my plans?”

“Is there somewhere we can speak privately?” She glances at my guide who is still in the communications tent with us.

“My tent.” I shrug. “Though the walls are thin.” I wink.

She gives a huff of disgust and throws open the canvas door. Success! She’s so easily annoyed with me. Having her here might be fun after all.

“Your Royal Highness,” Kafil says. “Can I speak with you before you go?”

“Sure thing, Kafil. And I said you’re fine to call me Nick, especially in private.”

“We have a small problem.” Kafil’s smile is fleeting. “Your colleague wishes to stay at camp, but we’re full while you’re here.”

“Doesn’t seem like a problem to me. She can stay in my tent.” Julia will blow a gasket at having to breathe the same air as me.

“I have called for another bed, but due to our remote location, we won’t have one delivered for a few days.”

I rock back on my heels, his meaning clear. “Ah, right. I see the problem now.” I rub the back of my neck and gaze at Julia who is sipping a bottle of water and speaking to one of the other guides just outside the canvas entrance. “Do you have an air mattress or anything?”