The Rebel Prince. Raye MorganЧитать онлайн книгу.

      CHAPTER THREE

      EMMA glared at Sebastian. It wasn’t enough that he was arrogant and bossy—he thought he could mock her principles, too. She’d about had it with this man. Prince or no prince, he had a lesson in manners due him.

      Her half-sister Rachel had warned her about this prince just a few days ago. Emma had been staying with Rachel and her new husband at their French vineyard. As she’d been packing up for her flight to Meridia Rachel had come in and flopped down on the bed.

      “Be careful,” she said. “You know what these young royals are like these days. And I hear this one’s a perfect example of a playboy.”

      “Really?” That wasn’t the first time Emma had heard that, but she didn’t think it was going to affect her work. “I doubt I’ll even meet with him more than once,” she assured her sister.

      Rachel pursed her lips and gazed at her speculatively. “That’s probably for the best,” she said slowly. “It might be just as well if you didn’t get your pretty little head turned.”

      Emma sighed. “Don’t.”

      “What’s the matter?”

      “Rachel, you know I’ve never been pretty. Competent, yes. Smart. Quick. Good at my job. But never pretty.”

      Rachel stared at her, aghast. “What are you talking about? You’re gorgeous. Emma Valentine, I’ll bet you haven’t looked in a mirror since you were sixteen.”

      Emma raised her head. “I’m looking in the mirror right now.”

      “And you see a lovely woman hidden behind hair that you didn’t bother to brush this morning and a naturally lovely face with no mascara to draw attention to your beautiful blue eyes.”

      “Oh, please. I have no intention of trying to be a seduc-tress here.”

      “I know, but that’s not the point. A little evidence that you might be open to some male attention is all I’m asking for.”

      “But I’m not.”

      Rachel rolled her eyes. “Okay. We’ll talk about this later. After the Meridia gig. The last thing I would want to do would be to encourage a prince to start chasing you.”

      The whole concept had made her laugh. And it was still ridiculous to contemplate. This prince was certainly gorgeous, but he was as arrogant and unpleasant as they came.

      “Listen, mister,” she began, trying to pull away from his grip on her elbow. “The divine rights of kings is all very well. Just don’t forget about noblesse oblige.”

      “Emma, you listen,” he said, giving every sign of a man who’d also come to the end of his patience. “I told you I need a woman’s touch. And you’re that woman.”

      She looked up into his eyes and what she saw there gave her shivers. Was he really that cold-hearted? Or was this just a royal trait?

      “But, I need to get to the kitchen,” she tried, knowing the weakness of her voice was giving away the fact that her stand had weakened, too.

      “Calm down.” His mouth twitched at the corners as he waited a moment for her to breathe evenly again, then he gestured toward his collar where a coil of braid flapped out, flying loose. “I just need a bit of repair work. A little sewing. That’s all.”

      For the first time, she noticed that he held a needle and a long tail of thread in his other hand.

      “I can’t sew,” she said quickly.

      “Liar.” Now he was laughing at her. “If you took cooking classes, I have no doubt a sewing lesson or two lurked in there somewhere. Come on. You’re going to sew this braid back on for me.”

      “But—”

      “Emma, have a heart. I’ve got to get to the reception in the entry hall. They’re waiting for me. And I can’t show up like this.” He paused, and then, with what seemed like a lot of effort, he made himself say, “Please.”

      She bristled, and then slowly relaxed. There was no point in keeping up this resistance when she knew she was going to have to give in eventually anyway. And if all he really wanted was a bit of needlework, the more quickly she got to it, the more quickly she would be back on her way to the kitchen. Besides, she was a sucker for people who said “please”.

      “Oh, all right,” she said, shaking her head in resignation. “I’ll give it a try. But I’m warning you, I’m not very good at it.”

      He nodded and led her into a small room just a few feet away from the elevator. It seemed to be a storage center of sorts, with maps pinned and glued all over the walls and large pieces of luggage stacked on shelves and set about in piles.

      “We’ll be out of the way here,” he said, dropping down to sit on a tall stool and handing her the needle. “Sew like the wind, my sweet, and we’ll be back on our way in no time.”

      She put a knot in the thread rather absently as she looked down at his collar. He’d unbuttoned the top buttons so that it could be pulled to the side a bit. The braid was definitely loose, and somewhat shredded in places, but she knew she could take care of it easily. Still…

      She cleared her throat nervously. “You know, this would be a lot easier to do if you took the jacket off,” she suggested.

      He shook his head. “Can’t do it. You don’t know what it cost me to get into this damn monkey suit in the first place. I’ll never be able to summon the patience to do it again.”

      She sighed. Nothing was ever completely easy, was it? “Hold still, then.”

      Her fingers were shaking. She bit her lip, trying to stop them. If she couldn’t keep steady and the needle slipped…She winced, thinking of it. He’d have her fired for sure.

      Fired! Hah! Killed, more likely.

      She almost laughed aloud and somehow that thought steadied her. Taking a deep breath, she pressed the piece of braid down where it evidently belonged and began her first probe with the needle.

      There. That wasn’t so hard. She took a tiny stitch, then another, and then she was moving along as though she really did know what she was doing. The trick was going to be to keep her mind off the fact that she was doing this for the prince.

      The prince! The man who was going to be King of Meridia. She hadn’t let that fact sink in yet. She couldn’t think about it if she was going to get through this task alive.

      But it wasn’t easy. She had to force herself to ignore the sense of his body heat that wafted up from his open-necked uniform, bringing with it a clean, masculine scent. Her fingers brushed the warm skin of his neck