The Controversial Princess (The Smoke & Mirrors Duology #1)(42)

“Just hold him still,” I tell Josh, as Stan starts to tread on the spot. “There is a lake through these bushes.” The swan starts to hiss, warning us back.

“Nasty little fucker,” Josh mutters. “If we were back home, I’d have my shotgun. Boom. Bye-bye, Mr. Swan.”

“You can’t kill it.” I laugh.

“Why not?”

“Because it belongs to the King.”

“He has a pet swan?”

I shake my head, thoroughly amused by his ignorance. “The King owns every unmarked mute swan in UK open waters.”

“He does? Fuck, that must keep him busy.” He nudges me in the back with a light thrust of his hips, and I laugh. He does it so easily. Makes me laugh, just as easily as he makes me a wanton mess. “So what do we do?” he asks.

“About the swan?”

“No, about this.” Another thrust.

“Will you stop?” I swat his hand in front of me, and squeal when he sinks his teeth into my neck.

“Having fun?” he asks around a mouthful of my flesh. “I mean real fun?”

“I am.” I push the side of my face into him. “You can walk on now,” I say as the swan relents and waddles out of our way.

“We should probably turn back before they send out a search party for you.”

I sag, disappointed. He is right, of course. We have been gone for twenty minutes, and it will take another twenty to make it back. I’m already going to be late. “No, keep going,” I say, not wanting our time to be up just yet. “I’ll text Damon.”

“I’m not going to argue with you.” He kicks Stan on while I tap out a quick message to Damon, telling him that I’m fine and we’ll be another half hour.

“Your father’s accent is different to yours,” I muse, clicking send and slipping my mobile back into the pocket of my gilet.

“I’m a southern boy, darlin’,” Josh drawls, his accent now as thick as the senator’s. “Born and raised, but fifteen years bouncing between New York and LA diluted it. I grew up on my father’s ranch in Alabama.”

“So you’re a true cowboy?” I smile, imagining Josh in boots and a Stetson. It is a ridiculously hot mental image indeed.

“Until I was eighteen. Rodeos, mountain trekking, you name it. Two hundred acres of unspoiled beauty.”

“Sounds wonderful.”

He breathes in, not that I hear it, more feel it from the expansion of his chest against my back. “It wasn’t really all that awesome.” He pauses for a few long seconds, and I look back to him. He smiles, but it goes nowhere near his starry eyes.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” He returns his attention forward, prompting me to do the same, though I do it reluctantly, wondering what is playing on his mind. “It’s weird how so much space can be suffocating.”

“I know how that feels,” I agree, casting my eyes across the vast beautiful land before us. Feeling damned and blessed is so conflicting.

“My hometown was in the middle of nowhere. Population 1341.”

“That’s tiny. How did you meet people?”

“I didn’t. Everyone knew everyone or was related to you in one way or another.”

“So how did you get into acting?”

“Anyone would think you want to get to know me,” he muses teasingly. “Isn’t that off limits for you?”

“Everything about you is off limits. Yet here I am on a romantic horse ride in the English countryside with you.”

I feel him smile against my cheek as he moves the reins into one hand, his spare now pulling up the sleeve of my jumper. “Quite a contrast to last night, huh?”

I look down and see him fingering the red welts glowing around my wrists. “Quite.”

“Do they hurt?”

“Not as much as my bottom.” I say as he lifts my hand and gently kisses my reddened flesh, heating the dying burn. “Have you always been so …” Drifting off, I ponder the right word.

“Kinky?” he finishes.

“Or brutal.” I shudder for effect, earning myself another bite of my neck.

“You loved it.”

I really can’t oppose him. “So have you always been kinky?”

“Not really. I guess my tastes developed as I did. My first time was a very clumsy affair.”

“Who was your first time with?” I ask, smiling to myself.

“I’ll tell you, but remember I told you I was from a small town, okay?”

I frown. “Okay.”

“My third cousin.” I feel him juddering behind me. “Nice, huh?”

“That’s not so bad. My great grandparents were first cousins.”

“They were? That’s kinda … wrong.”

I shrug. “It wasn’t unusual. It kept the royal bloodline strong.”

“Rather than diluting it with vulgar American commoners such as me?” He dips and rests his chin on my shoulder, and I peek out the corner of my eye on a grin.

“You are not vulgar.”

“Why, thank you, Your Highness. Does that mean you like me?”

“You’re all right, I suppose.” I return my attention forward, smiling like crazy on the inside when he flexes his hips into my bottom. “So tell me about your acting.”