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Red-Hot Affairs: The Crown Affair / Craving Her Enemy's Touch / A Lone Star Love Affair. Lucy KingЧитать онлайн книгу.

Red-Hot Affairs: The Crown Affair / Craving Her Enemy's Touch / A Lone Star Love Affair - Lucy  King


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had a coup.’

      ‘Nasty.’

      Matt twined his fingers through hers and felt her shiver. ‘Actually, not too bad as coups go. It was bloodless. I think the country had come to the end of the road and everyone knew it. It had been in steady decline for years. It was socially, financially and morally bankrupt. Corruption was rife. It still is. Public services are virtually non-existent.’

      ‘And it’s down to you to sort it out?’

      ‘Sorting out problems is what I do.’

      ‘Handy.’ A smile curved her lips and Matt’s stomach tightened.

      ‘Not really,’ he said. ‘I was told I was the main reason why they voted to restore the monarchy.’

      Her eyes widened. ‘That sounds pretty drastic. Couldn’t they have just employed you as a consultant or something instead?’

      ‘They wouldn’t have been able to afford me. This way they get me for free.’

      ‘So cynical.’

      ‘I prefer realistic.’ At the look of affront in her eyes on his behalf, something inside him thawed. ‘But if it makes you feel better,’ he said, faintly bewildered by the feeling, ‘I believe they thought a figurehead would unite the country and restore confidence.’

      ‘So no pressure, then.’

      ‘Fortunately I thrive under pressure.’

      ‘What’s the plan?’

      ‘I cut out the dead wood and restructure the finances.’

      ‘Sounds simple.’

      Matt thought of all the problems he’d already encountered in the short time he’d been here. ‘It isn’t.’

      ‘How’s it going?’

      ‘Slowly.’

      ‘How does it feel?’

      ‘Feel?’

      Laura nodded, watched a frown appear on his forehead and felt him tense. Matt clearly didn’t do feelings, at least not of the emotional kind. Well, that was tough, because she was on a roll, and frankly rather stunned by how much he’d divulged, even if it had been all fact based. No way was she giving up now.

      ‘How does what feel?’ he muttered.

      ‘The king thing.’

      ‘It doesn’t feel anything.’

      Matt’s expression shuttered but she carried on undeterred.

      ‘It must feel something,’ she said cajolingly. ‘I don’t know, exhilarating, nerve-racking, weighty. Maybe even a little bit scary?’

      Matt regarded her thoughtfully, his eyes unfathomable as he appeared to analyse the emotions she’d listed. ‘I guess it’s challenging,’ he said eventually.

      Challenging? ‘That’s it?’

      ‘That’s it.’

      ‘Oh.’

      ‘Don’t sound so disappointed,’ he said, a smile tugging at his mouth. ‘You know how much I like challenges.’

      ‘Oh, I do,’ said Laura, her eyes darkening and her breathing shallowing for a second before she remembered what she was supposed to be doing and giving herself a quick shake. ‘So what have you done with your business?’

      ‘What do you mean?’

      ‘Well, presumably you can’t run a business and run a country.’

      ‘I still have it. I’ve simply taken a step back.’

      ‘Until you decide what you want to do with it?’

      ‘Quite,’ he said non-committally.

      ‘And what are you going to do about your house?’

      ‘Which one?’

      ‘How many do you have?’

      ‘A few.’

      Naturally. ‘I mean the one in Little Somerford.’

      ‘I’m not going to do anything about it.’

      ‘Oh.’ She frowned.

      ‘What?’

      ‘Well, I know it’s your house and it’s really none of my business, but it does seem a shame to leave such a lovely house empty and neglected.’

      She felt his heart thump. ‘It’s not neglected. A gardener goes in twice a week and I employ a part-time caretaker.’

      ‘OK,’ said Laura, nibbling on her lip and ignoring the feeling she might be treading on eggshells. ‘Maybe neglected isn’t quite the right word. Unloved would be better.’

      ‘Unloved?’ He frowned. ‘It’s a house. It doesn’t need to be loved.’

      She gasped and gave him a quick smile. ‘Wash your mouth out. All buildings deserve to be loved. How long have you had it?’

      ‘Eight years.’

      ‘And how much time have you spent there?’

      ‘Not a lot.’

      ‘That would explain the emotional neglect.’

      His expression tightened. ‘I’m busy.’

      ‘That’s no excuse.’ Laura sniffed. ‘I bet you wouldn’t let one of your businesses slide into neglect.’

      ‘True. But then I’m not looking to make a profit on the house.’

      ‘Just as well. You know,’ she mused, ‘if I owned something like that I wouldn’t be able to stay away.’

      ‘Unfortunately I don’t have that luxury,’ he murmured, his gaze dropping to her mouth.

      ‘It breaks my heart to see something like that drifting into decline. If you’re not going to maintain it, and if you’re hardly ever there, what’s the point of having it?’

      Matt lifted his gaze. ‘I like having it.’

      Her eyes widened. ‘It’s a status symbol?’

      His eyes went bleak and Laura’s heart squeezed. ‘If you like,’ he said.

      ‘Oh, the poor thing,’ she murmured. ‘No wonder it was so lonely.’

      ‘Lonely?’ His tone suggested he thought she was nuts.

      ‘Yes, lonely. A house like that should be alive. Filled with laughter and activity and a family. There should be hordes of children running all over the place.’

      He tensed and she sensed barriers springing up all around him. ‘Perhaps.’

      ‘Do you have any family?’

      ‘Not much. I’m an only child. My father died of cancer when I was sixteen. My mother lives in London.’

      ‘Don’t you get lonely?’

      He froze beneath her. ‘No,’ he said gruffly. ‘I’m better off alone.’

      Her chest tightened at the bleak look that haunted his eyes. ‘That’s sad,’ she said softly.

      And then he rolled over, trapping her beneath him and Laura’s heart began to thump and her breath began to quicken. ‘So make it better,’ he muttered, lowering his head and covering her mouth with his.

      Matt watched Laura sleeping. Stared at the fingers of moonlight turning her blond hair to silver and listened as her breath whispered across his chest.

      And with every rise of her breasts, every fall, every soft breath he felt another tiny strand of his carefully controlled life unravel.

      Dammit,


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