The King's Captive Virgin

She’d lived here all her life but never seen the King up close before—and had certainly never imagined he’d be as good-looking in reality as he was in print. Impossibly, he was more so. As he towered over her she was conscious of his physicality—of the broad shoulders and muscled body that his perfectly tailored suit hinted at. It struck her that the immaculate stitching and fabric was nothing more than a fragile veneer, masking his raw masculinity. His dangerousness.

And where had that idiot thought come from?

She mentally slapped herself. So he was tall, dark and handsome? She knew that. Everyone knew that. So what? More importantly, where was everyone? Where was her ward manager? She tore her gaze from his to see Zoe a short distance away, walking with a uniformed soldier who must have accompanied the King.

‘Don’t you know who I am?’ he asked.

Her attention snapped back to the column of masculinity blocking her path. Of course she knew who he was.

‘Yes, I do,’ she muttered breathlessly, instantly mortified by the brevity of her answer. ‘Sir,’ she added. ‘I mean, Your Highness.’

Oh, hell, was she flustered? Kassie was never flustered.

He was still staring at her. His piercing green gaze narrowed, deepening his frown to appear even more disapproving than before. Another prickle rippled down her spine—and it was not only awareness, it was edged with something else. A foreign kind of anger kindled. What was he waiting for? Was he expecting her to curtsey? Bend her knees and scrape the floor? Roll over before him?

But then a sudden image sprang to her mind—of herself on her back and him arching over her—sensual, inappropriate and so unexpected and shocking she gasped softly.

His gaze sharpened. ‘Will you show me around the ward?’ he asked with stinging sarcasm, as if he shouldn’t have had to.

The last thing she wanted to do was spend another second in his company when her dormant sensuality had decided to spark up—and malfunction.

She cleared her throat, panicking. ‘Is there anything in particular you would like to see?’

Why on earth would he want a tour, last thing on a Friday? And, crucially, how quickly could she get this over with so she could step outside and examine the fact that she’d just had a flash of an X-rated fantasy for the first time in her life—ever? A totally alien heat flooded her body.

‘I’d like to understand what my sister likes to see when she visits.’

Kassie tried to pull on a sympathetic smile and get her mind back on track. ‘We missed the Princess today.’

‘You usually see her.’ He was coldly confirming a fact more than asking a question.

‘Every week.’ Kassie nodded, happy for the distraction. ‘Is she well?’

The icy expression in his eyes instantly slid into steely hostility. She stared back at him, stunned by the animosity so apparent in him. Had the question been rude? Should she not have asked? Why not show concern for the poor woman?

The temperature plummeted as the silence stretched, tearing at her equanimity and customary conciliatory manner.

‘The Princess likes to spend time with the younger patients,’ she said crisply, deciding to end this as quickly and as politely as possible. Fortunately she was experienced at building barriers to distance herself and end conversations early. ‘Most of them are having their dinner and will then be prepared for sleep.’

‘Are you saying this is an inconvenient time?’ His query would have been perfectly polite if it hadn’t been for that slight edge in his voice.

‘It’s outside of customary visiting hours,’ she replied, with as much diplomacy as she could summon.

‘Then let’s not disturb them.’

Relief bloomed in Kassie’s chest and she managed an actual small smile as she waited for His Arrogance to depart. But he too waited, watching her far too closely. His lashes lowered and he lazily looked her up and down. She stiffened. Was he really looking at her body? The King?

Men had been looking at her body since she was a young teenager and had first developed the curves that so many guys seemed instantly to equate with sexual appetite. They looked, they made assumptions, they made passes. And then they made slurs, because she didn’t respond the way they wanted. So, as always, she froze at this visual inspection—but stared hard back at him, glaring to convey her anger at his audacity.

He ended his trailing inspection of her and met her gaze directly, his green eyes imprisoning her attention. She couldn’t have torn it away if she’d tried. And, deep within her, an unexpected kernel of energy popped—a spark that set her nerves to smoulder. And then another. Suddenly every muscle tightened, coiling with kinetic energy. Her body simmered.

Ordinarily Kassie had no flight-or-fight mode—she simply froze. But now? Now she felt primed to act.

He wasn’t anything like his serene sister—a sweet woman who liked to laugh and draw pictures for the patients. There was no laughter in him—only leashed energy. She could almost feel waves of emotion rolling off him—impatience barely concealed. It didn’t seem right for such a big man to stand so still. He was like a predator about to attack. His fiery gaze trained on hers.

She was clearly going crazy. She didn’t get flustered in the presence of royals or other supposedly important people. She didn’t get overwhelmed. She didn’t get struck speechless. And she certainly didn’t start thinking about sex. Always she remained cool. More than cool. Outright frosty.

She knew very well that in the doctors’ ranks she was famed for her frigidity. That was the only reason why that guy had come to try his luck with her just before. And she’d rejected him—just as she’d rejected every one of the others who’d heard about her and who’d come to ask her on a date. It was no longer about her as a person, but her as a challenge. Rejection from her was a rite of passage for new recruits.

‘How else may I help you?’ she asked, her throat dry.

‘I require your assistance,’ he said curtly.

‘You need a physiotherapist?’

Insanely, the thought of touching him was...not what she’d expected. No, the thought of touching him made the skin beneath her uniform sizzle rather than chill.

Startled by her own stunning inconsistency, Kassie quickly denied him. ‘I’m sure there’s someone with more experience who can assist—’

‘It’s you I want,’ he snapped.

She flinched. Want? What did he mean by ‘want’?

She stared up at him, transfixed by the total derailment of her thoughts. By what she thought she could read in the banked heat of his green eyes. Was this some kind of weird pick-up? Because if it was this was worse than any of the attempts she’d been subjected to in the past.

Mortified, she felt as if acid was burning a hole right through her pride.

‘Want for what?’ She couldn’t even speak properly—her voice was reduced to a whisper—but her words were rude.

Because it wasn’t quite her pride that was burning—it was something deeper than that. Something more complicated. Had he heard the rumours about her? Was he here to try his luck?

Impossibly, he looked even more remote. ‘It is a delicate matter.’

Somehow her brain conflated ‘delicate’ with intimate. Another whisper of a vision—of being close to him—scattered her remaining rationality to the four winds.

Was she blushing? She never blushed. Never responded to any suggestion of closeness with anything other than revulsion.

‘In what...?’ She paused and cleared her throat to force herself to continue, repeating her question. ‘In what way do you want me?’

He had not lifted his unyielding stare from her face and she knew he was watching the heated colour mottling her skin. Too late she realised that he knew. He saw right thought her and knew the appalling direction her thoughts had taken. And too late she realised the innuendo so blatantly obvious in the question she’d so innocently asked.

‘I’m not about to act inappropriately with you,’ he said, very slowly and softly. ‘I do have a modicum of self-control.’

He had self-control? Did that mean he wanted to act inappropriately with her? She was so shocked she simply couldn’t speak.

He took a step closer, his voice lowering further still. ‘You need to come to the palace. My assistant will bring you there immediately.’

No. Every instinct warned her against being alone with him. Because even being with him here in public like this was causing a reaction within her that wasn’t normal. Not for her.

Emotion surged—fury coalesced with fear and summoned rebellion. She didn’t care who he was. She wasn’t going to blindly do as she was told.

‘I don’t get into cars with strangers,’ she said as calmly as she could. ‘I don’t go anywhere without knowing why.’

He regarded her steadily, that arrogant tilt curling his lips. ‘Are you defying the express orders of your King?’

She sucked in a breath and replied before thinking clearly. ‘Are you abusing your position of power to control me?’

His mouth opened and then closed. His nostrils flared as he exhaled. ‘Yes,’ he said with carefully controlled quietness. ‘In this situation I will do whatever it takes to get what I need from you.’

This time her jaw dropped. ‘I don’t see that there’s anything I can do—’

‘But you don’t see everything, do you?’ he said sharply. ‘You don’t know.’

‘Then tell me.’

‘We haven’t the time to waste—’

‘Then put me in chains,’ she snapped. ‘That’s the only way you’ll get me to leave with you.’

Her defiance shocked her. She’d never stood up to anyone so overtly. She worked hard and did as she was told—kept out of trouble and tried to stay invisible to men. But the arrogance of this man was bringing out a side she’d not known she had. Not a good one.

Determinedly she held his stare—and something flickered in his green eyes. She realised he was imagining it—her in chains—and he was enjoying the vision. The heat swamping her now was intolerable, and she dragged in a searing breath as wayward nerves deep within her body fizzed into life.

But suddenly he straightened, and in a blink that cold hostility returned to his expression.

‘I need your help with a personal matter,’ he said irritably. ‘That is all I am prepared to discuss while we are in a public place. Does that satisfy your safety concerns?’

She was lost for words. How could she possibly help him with a personal matter?

His gaze narrowed. ‘Have I given you reason not to trust me?’

‘I don’t trust anyone,’ she answered honestly.

Not intimately. And she certainly didn’t trust him. King Giorgos had a good reputation—he was serious, intense, and it was known that he worked hard and long hours—but that edginess he carried, and the unexpected, unexplained demand he was making...

Her body was sending out all kinds of chaos signals—the shivers down her spine, the speed of her pulse, the breathlessness, the heat. Maybe she was coming down with something. But, no, in her gut she didn’t trust anyone—not him, and now she was beginning not to trust herself.

His smile was slow and not very reassuring. ‘No doubt you have your reasons.’

Of course she did. ‘Several,’ she replied coldly.

He offered nothing more than a dismissive shrug. ‘Regardless of your hesitation, we need to leave.’

She shook her head. ‘I have to finish my shift.’

‘Leaving a few minutes early will make little difference. Your manager has already been informed.’

Shocked, she stared up at him, registering his planning. He hadn’t come to the hospital to visit patients and to spread cheer.

‘I came here for you.’ He quietly confirmed her thinking. ‘And I’m not leaving without you. If I have to get my security team to forcibly remove you, then that’s what I will do.’

‘No, you won’t,’ she challenged him—because this she did know. ‘You care too much about what people think.’

King Giorgos was remote and dignified and there’d never been a breath of scandal about him. He was Giorgos the Perfect, while his sister was Eleni the Pure.

He blinked rapidly. ‘I beg your pardon?’

‘You’re the hard-working, serious King who can do no wrong.’

‘You do realise you’re insulting that “hard-working, serious King” to his face?’

‘Because he is doing wrong. You can’t make me go with you.’

‘I can—because this is too important. We are leaving,’ he ordered. ‘Walk with me now.’

‘You’re serious?’

He took another step closer—a shade too far into her personal space. ‘Are you going to make me get the chains? Because if that’s really what you want, then of course I wouldn’t dream of disappointing a lady.’

His sneer was mortifying. That humiliating blush burned again. She hadn’t meant it about the chains, yet here he was implying that she was doing this only to...to flirt? She never flirted.

What was wrong with her? This man made all the rules—he owned the nation...his face was on the currency—and she was snapping at him like some schoolgirl with an immature crush.

‘Of course not.’ She avoided his eyes and muttered contritely, ‘I’ll just get my bag and then we can leave.’

She was startled when he kept pace with her as she went into the small office.

‘Why are you following me?’

‘I’m not giving you a chance to hide anything or any time alone to contact him.’

Contact who? She stared at him uncomprehendingly.

‘Just get your things,’ he muttered.

It finally dawned on her that this had to be a case of mistaken identity—he’d confused her with someone else and there was nothing she could help him with. She was nobody. She did nothing but work at the hospital and then go home to read up about more work. But she’d go with his assistant now and they’d soon realise she wasn’t the person the King sought. Then they’d bring her back here and all would be forgotten.

Reassured by this reasoning, Kassie grabbed her satchel and slung the strap over her shoulder.

She almost had to run to keep pace with him moving through the hospital. He’d lost patience and wasn’t slow. She stepped into the sleek black car idling right outside the back entrance. To her surprise King Giorgos walked around and got into the seat on the other side.

‘I thought I was going with your assistant?’ she said. She’d been looking forward to a quick resolution.

He directed a quelling look at her as the car glided off, taking them away. ‘Do you ever stop questioning?’

‘Not when there’s this much to be questioned. Where are you taking me? And why?’

‘I’m the one who has the questions, Ms Marron.’

The edge in his tone forced her to regard him directly. Something lurked in the back of his eyes—a streak of wildness that surprised her.

But it wasn’t entirely a surprise. From what she’d seen of him at a distance—in the news and on the television—King Giorgos had always appeared to her like a wild man forced into refined clothes. It wasn’t that he wasn’t civilised—of course he was—but it was as if he might break free from the polished uniform at any moment. He was too elemental to be contained.

Idiot.

She scoffed at her wayward thinking. She was just unused to a man his size. He was taller than average, with a powerful set to his extremely broad shoulders. Lean and muscled, his physique and demeanour were imposing. And this close she could see his hair was a little bit too long, and a faint edge of stubble showed on his jaw, adding to the impression of edginess—of a man chafing at his constraints. And right now he was clearly inwardly struggling to contain a fierce emotion.

But the thought that King Giorgos might be struggling with latent rebelliousness was pure imagination. This was King Giorgos. The man had been King since his late teens—earnest and capable beyond his years. Yet suddenly all she could do was think about that streak of wildness and the size of his muscular thighs and the promise of physical power...

What was wrong with her? She swallowed, but it didn’t ease the dryness in her throat.

She realised that he was silently scrutinising her as much as she was him. But he had that hostility in his eyes again, and a moody set to his jaw. His whole positioning was tense. Something was off. Something was wrong. And she had no idea how she was supposed to help.

‘Is it Princess Eleni?’ she asked softly.

He sat very still. ‘What makes you say that?’

‘She missed her visit today. She never misses her visits.’

He watched her...waiting. Something swirled in the atmosphere between them. The luxurious car suddenly felt cramped—as if she were too close to him, as if he could see into her mind. She felt compelled to fill the silence—anything to deflect this pull she felt, pushing her nearer to him.

‘She was unwell last week,’ she added, licking her dry lips.

‘Unwell in what way?’

Foreboding slithered down her spine at the ice in his voice.

‘She was dizzy. She said she’d had a bug recently.’ She frowned as she swallowed again. ‘Is she okay?’

If she wasn’t then the King ought to be summoning a doctor, not a physiotherapist.

‘Did anyone else notice that she was unwell?’ he asked. ‘Did anyone ask about her?’

Kassie shook her head—then froze. Damon, her half-brother, had appeared just after the Princess had walked away. He’d asked her who she’d been talking to. Now she thought about it, Damon had been too curious—and stunned when he’d learned the Princess’s identity. Why had he been so surprised?

‘Ms Marron?’ the King prompted.

Chills whipped across her skin, chafing where heat had burned only moments ago. Perhaps this wasn’t a case of mistaken identity. Perhaps there was something very wrong. She barely knew her half-brother, Damon, but she wasn’t about to throw him under a bus. Not until she understood exactly what was going on.

King Giorgos’s expression hardened as she remained silent. He knew she was holding something back. How did he know that?

‘You attended a ball at the palace a few weeks ago,’ he said coldly.

‘Yes.’ There was no point in lying—but she didn’t need to offer any more information than necessary, right?

‘Why?’

Her heart thumped. ‘It was for charity. For the hospital.’

‘But you didn’t go with the hospital staff. You attended as the guest of someone else.’

She hadn’t been one of the lucky staff to win a lottery invitation, but Damon had taken her—the only thing she’d let herself take from the half-brother she’d met only a few months before. Damon had seemed preoccupied when they’d left the ball, but she’d been too deep in thought herself to notice much; she didn’t really know him well enough to ask if he was okay. She should have asked.

But then Damon had asked that random question—more than once. ‘Did you see that woman in the blue wig and black mask? Do you know who she is?’

Kassie hadn’t even seen who he’d meant—there’d been plenty of women in wigs...it had been a masquerade ball, after all. It could have been anyone, right? But not Princess Eleni. Everyone knew that the Princess hadn’t attended the ball that night because she’d been unwell with a migraine.

But once more Kassie remembered the look of utter astonishment on Damon’s face when he’d learned that Princess Eleni was the visitor he’d overheard at the hospital that day a few weeks later.

‘You see my sister every week. I hear she likes to talk to you?’

She hadn’t answered King Giorgos’s earlier question. She realised now he hadn’t needed her to because he already knew. Just as he already knew the answer to this question too.

‘I take her on her tour of the ward, yes.’

‘And when she was unwell last week...?’

‘She didn’t stay. No one else was aware she was unwell.’ None of the other staff, nor the other patients.

‘No one?’ he pressed, astute and seeking. ‘What aren’t you telling me?’

She panicked, desperate to deflect his questioning. ‘Your sister might put up with your bullying, but I’m not going to.’

He stiffened. ‘That’s what she told you? That I bully her?’

She couldn’t hold his scorching gaze, and was unable to lie. ‘No. I never spoke with her about anything personal. She never mentioned you.’

Her foolish eyes had minds of their own and they couldn’t resist looking into his again. He kept watching her, and suddenly nothing else seemed to register or matter. Nothing but this moment in which the world tilted, shifting something within her. Something deep and profound and frightening.

She forced herself to glance away, but he reached out and touched her chin, drawing her gaze back to his. There was no veil over his expression now. He was lethally, icily angry.

‘Tell me everything you know,’ he ordered.

‘Or what?’ That deep curl of fear forced the defiance from her—a primitive instinct to hold him at bay even though she knew it was rude, perhaps wrong. ‘You’re going to torture me?’

‘It’s a tempting thought,’ he muttered. ‘And you seem to like the idea of chains. But I can think of a better way to extract the information I need.’ His eyes narrowed. ‘A more fitting way.’

She couldn’t breathe. His words—his promise—sucked all the air from her lungs.

The opening of the car door startled her. Only then did she realise that they were inside the palace grounds. The large iron gates had automatically closed behind them. Locking her in.

‘Come into my palace,’ he demanded, curtly exiting the car to stalk ahead of her.

‘Said the spider to the fly...’ she muttered beneath her breath in annoyance at his peremptory tone and total lack of manners.

He stopped walking and spun so quickly she almost bumped into him from behind. Damn, it seemed the man had supersonic hearing.

‘You think I’m going to make you my prisoner?’ he asked, so softly that all illusions of her personal safety were shattered.

King Giorgos was pure predator and she’d never felt in so much danger. Nor had she ever felt such primitive exhilaration.

Suddenly she wanted to sprint from him. Instead, as always, she froze.

‘You think I’m going to eat you?’ he added with the slightest huskiness.

It wasn’t the sexual innuendo that shocked her but her sudden sensual response to it. Another of those incredible flushes burned her at the blatant carnality of his taunt.

‘I think I’m right to be wary.’ She pushed the words past the croak in her throat.

‘Because you’re guilty as sin?’

Kassie squared her shoulders and made herself look directly into his shadowed, judging eyes. ‘What exactly is it you think I’m guilty of?’

CHAPTER TWO

RIGHT NOW GIORGOS could believe her guilty of nothing. And everything.

Kassiani Marron wasn’t what he’d expected—she was much, much more. More beautiful than the pictures from the ball—impossible as he’d thought that could be, especially considering she was wearing the most horrendous uniform he’d had the misfortune to clap his eyes on. And in his decade as King he’d seen a million uniforms.

This was a drab, shapeless tunic with a high collar that revealed no skin whatsoever, paired with black trousers and utilitarian shoes. Her stunning hair was swept back into a neat braid and she’d not applied any make-up to accentuate those thick curling eyelashes framing her enchanting deep brown eyes. Nor had she bothered to rub any gloss on her full, kissable pout.

Because she didn’t need to.

Because despite this apparent lack of artifice, and despite the dullness of her attire, she’d easily capture the attention of any red-blooded man in her vicinity.