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My lips part, his response surprising me. I’d assumed he was on board with this asinine plan, but his snide remarks make me question his motives. Perhaps he’s as much a victim of circumstance as I am.
He may not be royalty, but his family is one of the wealthiest in all of Europe. It’s possible he’s being pressured to marry in order to increase his family’s social standing even more. And there’s no higher to go than the royal family.
It’s not the first time this kind of arrangement has been made.
And it won’t be the last.
“If you didn’t read about it, how did you—”
“You’d mentioned it at the King’s Day gala last year. Sure, you spoke about a lot of things, but when someone brought up horses, your eyes lit up. Like the mere idea of your horses breathed life into you. With the way that meeting was going, I took a chance you might be out here.”
How do I even respond to this? I can’t remember a single conversation I had at that gala, let alone a brief one about my love of horses.
But Jameson does.
I’m about to respond when I sense a motion behind me. A reminder we’re not alone.
Turning, I meet Creed’s eyes, his jaw ticking as he stares at Jameson. Although I’m not sure stare is the correct word. It’s more akin to a glower. But he has no reason to glower. After all, he turned me down.
“Creed Lawson.” Squaring my shoulders, I address him as if he’s just another acquaintance. No one special. “May I introduce you to Mr. Jameson Gates.” I move closer to Jameson. “Jameson, this is Lieutenant Creed Lawson. He’s a friend of my brother’s.”
Jameson smiles that same charismatic smile I’ve seen plastered all over magazines and gossip websites, teeth white against his tanned skin. “Pleasure to meet you.” He extends his hand.
Creed glares at it, several tense seconds passing before he finally takes it. “Likewise,” he growls.
My gaze ping-pongs between the two men, both seeming to size up one another.
While Jameson is tall and fit, maybe only three inches shorter than Creed’s six-five stature, he’s no match for his muscular physique. And the longer Creed shakes Jameson’s hand, the firmer his grip becomes, to the point Jameson winces.
“Well, then…” I jump between them before Creed rips off Jameson’s balls with his bare hands.
A few minutes ago, he insisted Jameson was a great guy. But now, he’s on the verge of breaking every bone in his hand. His behavior gives me whiplash.
“I’m sure my brother’s waiting for you,” I direct at Creed. “Aren’t you supposed to meet him at the range?”
“The range?” Jameson repeats, interest piqued.
“Gun range,” Creed explains curtly.
“That sounds like fun. Perhaps one of these days, I can join you. I’d like to get to know Esme’s friends. And family.” He wraps an arm around my shoulders.
If looks could kill, the venomous stare Creed gives Jameson’s hand on my body would incinerate him.
“That’s a fantastic idea,” I say brightly, wide grin trained on Creed. “I’m sure Lieutenant Lawson would be quite agreeable. As would my brother. Fair warning, though. They both can be quite competitive.”
“I’m always game for a little friendly competition.”
“I’ll be sure to bring it up with my brother,” I tell Jameson before turning my gaze back to Creed. “Good day, Lieutenant Lawson.”
He hesitates, glancing between me and Jameson. The romantic in me wants him to refuse. To fight for me. To draw me into his arms and tell me he can’t stand the idea of another man touching a single hair on my body.
Instead, he does what he’s been trained to do. He follows orders.
Stepping back, he bows, expression stoic and unwavering. “Ma’am.” Then he spins, strides purposeful, as if marching in formation.
“He’s…intense,” Jameson remarks after several long moments of stiff silence.
On a long sigh, I face him. “He’s spent the past eight years in the military. The last four on special teams. Creed Lawson only knows one level. And that’s intense.”
