Page 93 of Bound

“It shall be an even trade, all right? Me for her. Plain and simple.”

But who was she trying to fool? This was nothing near plain or simple. Part of her wondered—hoped?—if this was all real. If her lips were even suggesting it. But ohhh yes, she had. And that meant standing by the offer, no matter how terrifying or debilitating. It meant keeping her word, no matter how daunting the mission.

Doing the right thing isn’t always doing the easiest thing.

Unbelievably, she owed that one to ’Raz. Creator’s mercy, her adorable brother and all the motivational posters with which he loved wallpapering his office.

The right thing is not

always the easiest thing.

Great achievement is

achieved by great sacrifice.

The girl who gets the boy

isn’t always the lucky one.

All right, ’Raz hadn’t gotten around to ordering that last one yet. That didn’t negate the pound of its truth in every damn pore of her five feet, three inches.

But she could still do this.

She had to do this.

“Plain…and simple.” As Trystan echoed it, new chills raced each other down her spine. He was warming to the idea, which should have thrilled her. But inside, she was swearing in agony just like her American friend.

“No. Fucking hell to the fucking no! Your Highn—”

“Plain and simple,” Jayd interjected, loud and bold about the enunciation. “Set your darling free, and you get the Jayd Cimarron full-access pass. That includes everything you see here”—she slid a hand from the top of her head to well past her knees—“as well as cordial introductions to everyone I know in the palais.”

And there it was.

The campaign promise she could no longer rescind. The marketing pitch Trystan could no longer ignore.

The man indicated as much by turning completely from Power Ranger, his gaze fixed on Jayd’s little nook in the wall. But the moment she thought he would rush forward and force his greedy hands—and fingers and tongue and mouth—all over her personal space, he did nothing of the sort. He remained an arm’s length away. Perhaps more. He kept examining her, as if waiting on rhododendrons to start growing out of her head or something.

“Just how many introductions?” he queried.

“A hundred at least.” She shrugged, giving away what an easy fact it really was. “Possibly one-fifty.” That was likely a low ball too, though she was not so transparent about it. Clearly, the first number was already his wildest dream come true. At least she thought so. His face vacillated between several unreadable expressions before he spoke again.

“And you are really ready to do all this?”

“No,” snapped the woman behind him. “No she isn’t and no she won’t!”

“You would truly trade yourself out like this?” he went on as if she had just chirped like a cricket. “For a person you barely know?”

“I barely know you, Trystan. But sometimes, things simply have to be done.” She attempted to stay serene, but her fingers rebelled and started tapping against her thighs. “I may only be half a Cimarron, but I know the meaning of dutiful sacrifice.”

Another indecipherable look from him. This time, Jayd wondered why he looked on the verge of a soft laugh. Maybe a not-so-soft one.

“Sacrifice,” he echoed. “Aha. The dutiful kind, at that.” More of those strange, mirthful tugs at his mouth. “Is that your passionate lesson from Paris, then? The things that your handsome soldier boy imparted?”

She hissed hard through her teeth. Even that melodrama was better than exposing her tears to the prispoul.

“Leave Brickham out of this,” she charged. “Far, far out.”

“My complete pleasure.”