His Forbidden Princess(14)

“My hand? Why?”



Keeping his eyes locked on hers which only made the temptation worse, Ian laced his fingers through hers. “Showtime.”





Feeling Ian grasp her hand overwhelmed her, just like it had when they were sitting in his car before getting on the ferry. Plain and simple, she couldn’t allow the feelings he dredged up to take hold. Never in her life had Sofie felt so conflicted.



“I can’t.”



“What is it,” he asked. “We’re just going to have dinner. It’s going to be fine.”



How was she going to get out of this without completely betraying how he affected her?

“I can’t face a crowd, Ian,” she lied. “I’ll be jumping out of my skin. I thought I’d be able to do this, but until I know about my family, I just can’t make a public appearance.” She was a woman who prided herself on her control, but being close to him was forcing every memory of how much she loved him to the surface, making her nervous, uncertain.



“Okay. I’m sure I can find something at the house. It won’t be fancy.”



“I don’t need fancy. I just can’t be in a public place right now.”



I don’t want to be this close to you right now. It’s killing me. Why did they send you to protect me?



The rest was a blur. She got back in his vehicle and he drove. There were a series of turns down lanes with pretty cottages and homes that she watched go by far too quickly, but she needed to be someplace that wouldn’t require her to feel his warmth and pick up his oh-so-familiar-scent. Most of the yards they passed were surrounded by white fences, green lawns and lush gardens. Just a few minutes from the restaurant, they were pulling down a small street, small pebbles crunching beneath the tires of Ian’s truck. It was hard to see in the twilight, but once her eyes adjusted, it didn’t look like a lane, but a private, tree-lined drive. And that’s exactly what it was. All at once, the trees opened up to reveal a house bathed in lights.

It was a rather large house, covered in weathered gray shingles, with lots of windows and trimmed all in white. Gorgeous blue and white hydrangeas bordered the home and drive. It was stunning. She’d seen many places like this when she visited Martha’s Vineyard—homes full of warmth and family. “This is wonderful,” she said.



“Yeah.” He reached over her and pulled his weapon from the glove box.

“Is there a problem. Why did you get your gun?” She hated guns.



“Because there aren’t many lights on in the house. Margie was going to leave a few on when she dropped off provisions and got the house ready. She might have forgotten, but I don’t want to take any chances,”



Just as Ian said it, the front porch light came on and an older man, husky and tall, opened the front door and waved. “If it’s a burglar, he’s friendly.”

“Jesus Christ,” Ian grumbled.

“Who is that?”



“My uncle is here. I though he was still fishing in Florida.”



“You’re uncle? Is it okay that he’s here? He’s not going to tell anyone about me, is he?”



“Absolutely not. There isn’t one member of my family you’d have to worry about, but least of all, Uncle John. He’s one of my father’s older brothers. I told you about him. Stepped in when my dad died. He’s a retired Army colonel. No security risk there.”



“Oh, is that your Uncle Johnny?”



Ian nodded. “You’re probably safer that he’s here. First, because there’s two of us to protect you, and second, he’s a better shot than I am. And that’s saying something.” Ian’s humility was still one of his most charming attributes.



Two Stuart men to protect her. She had to wonder what this family was all about. It was rare to find people dedicated to service. Sofie knew Ian’s father was a police officer who was killed in the line of duty. It appeared bravery ran deep with them.



“Alright. Let’s get on with it, then.” Holding her breath, Sofie got out of the car and walked toward the house that would be her sanctuary—her prison in some ways. It was quite a lovely prison, but it was one nonetheless.



“Hello," she offered her hand to his uncle, who smiled and did the same. “I’m Sofia.”



“Sofia, it’s a pleasure,” he responded formally. “I’m John Stuart. You may call me John, or Uncle John, seeing you’re with my nephew.”



“I thought you were in the Keys fishing?” Ian asked as he embraced his uncle, slapping his back with affection.