GINA WILKINS - The Park's Empire - Handsome Strangers... - The Prince's Bride

Lazhar turned to speak to one of the bodyguards, his attention distracted, and in that brief moment, a small child, no more than two or three years old, wiggled free of her mother’s grasp and darted into the street.

Emily didn’t pause to consider her actions. Without a thought for her own safety, she ran after the little girl, sweeping her up into her arms just as a car bore down on them. Horns blared and the driver slammed on his brakes, the tires squealing in protest. The edge of the car’s bumper grazed her skirt as she leapt to safety on the curb and was grabbed by Lazhar, held safe in his arms.

“What the hell are you doing?” he roared, his arms tight bands around both Emily and the little girl.

Shaking from the adrenaline still coursing through her veins, Emily lifted her head to answer him but was silenced by his grim expression. Behind the dark lenses of his sunglasses, she thought she glimpsed fear in his eyes, but couldn’t be sure.

The child, silent until now, whimpered. Emily looked down at her and managed a smile. “Hey, sweetie,” she crooned softly. “It’s all right. Don’t be scared. You’re fine.”

The crowd around them, shocked into silence by the speed with which the life-and-death rescue had occurred, began to stir.

Emily wiggled, trying to loosen Lazhar’s bruising grip. At first, he just stared at her, but then he seemed to realize that she wanted to be set free and his arms abruptly released her. But his hands settled possessively on her waist, his heavier male body a solid wall behind her.

She looked around for the child’s parent just as a woman, sobbing hysterically, pushed her way through the crowd to reach them.

“Mama!” The tiny girl held out her arms and Emily let her go, surrendering the sturdy little body to her frantic mother.

She was instantly aware that her legs were wobbly, her hands trembling in the aftermath. Lazhar’s hands tightened on her waist, easing her back slightly until she rested against him, his much broader bulk supporting her smaller frame.

“How can I thank you, miss?” the mother said, her daughter clutched tightly in her arms. “One moment she was next to me, the next moment she was gone. If you hadn’t been so quick to run after her…” Fresh tears trembled on the young woman’s eyelids, spilling over to trickle down her cheeks.

Impulsively Emily reached out to comfort the distraught mother, her hand closing with sympathy on the woman’s bare forearm. “But she’s safe now.” She smiled warmly at the woman, clad in a clean but faded dress and the black-haired, darkeyed little girl in a worn, too-small red jumper. “And I bet you won’t let go of your mother’s hand again, will you? Streets can be very dangerous.”

The little girl nodded solemnly, her gaze fixed on Emily’s face, before she turned to pat her mother’s cheek. “Streets are dane-ja-rus, Mama. I have to hold your hand.”

“Yes, baby.” The woman smiled through her tears, exchanging a look of female amusement with Emily. Her gaze moved past Emily and her eyes rounded, evidently unaware until then of the identity of Emily’s companion. “Your Highness.” She bowed, executing a graceful semicurtsy.

Around them, the crowd followed her example as the women curtsied, the men bowed.

Lazhar exchanged greetings with them, taking time to speak quietly to mother and child. Emily was instantly reminded of his position as the prince of Daniz and the respect and affection the residents felt for him. What she didn’t realize was that those same Danizians were smiling approvingly at her, nodding knowingly at each other as she and Lazhar said goodbye and crossed the street to reach the Jewel Market.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Lazhar asked as they entered the stone building. His hand cupped her elbow as they walked through the metal detector and then halted, waiting for the bodyguards to circle the detectors, flash their badges, and be waved on by the inspectors. Lazhar drew her into the relative privacy of an alcove, his back to the entryway, sheltering her from the view of passersby.

“What? Visit the Market?”

“Yes. We can leave it till another day.”

His voice was clipped, his big body tense.

“Would you like to skip our tour today and come back later?” she asked, uncertain why he was so edgy.

“Not if you feel up to touring the Market. Are you sure you wouldn’t like to go back to the palace and rest?”

“Why would I need to rest?” She was having difficulty defining what his problem was, did he think the car’s bumper had hit her when it had actually only grazed her skirt?

“You could have been killed back there. Don’t you feel the need to recover?” His voice was carefully even, a direct contrast to the tension that gripped him.

“No. My legs were a little rubbery after it was over and we were back on the curb, safe and sound. And my hands were shaking. But I’m over that now.” The muscle ticking in Lazhar’s jaw didn’t ease. Emily tried again. “I’m fine, Lazhar, just fine. But I’d be happy to go back to my room and rest, if you’re still concerned. Would you like to return to the palace?”

“What I’d like is for you to stop jumping in front of moving cars,” he ground out.

“I don’t make a habit of jumping into traffic. In fact, I’ve never done so before.” She tilted her chin and faced him, narrowing her eyes at his stormy features. “What is your problem?”

“My ‘problem’ is that you seem to take your safety too lightly,” he said through clenched teeth.

“I do not,” she said promptly. “I’m normally very cautious. Although,” she admitted reluctantly, “I usually think carefully before I act and I confess I didn’t think just now. When I saw the little girl running into traffic, I didn’t consider what might happen. I just ran to catch her—it was purely instinct, no planning.”

Lazhar’s hot black gaze scorched her for a long moment. Then the tension in his big body eased, his eyes softening. “You have the instincts of a lioness with her cubs, Emily.” His face solemn, he brushed the backs of his fingers down her cheek in a slow caress. “Will you protect your own children so fiercely?”

The stroke of his warm fingers against her suddenly hot cheek mesmerized Emily. What was it about him, she wondered, that made all her resolve to keep her distance fly out the window?

By the end of a very busy week, filled with tours of Daniz in which Lazhar showed her the best of his beloved country, comfortable breakfasts and luncheons with Caroline and Jenna while they went over lists for the wedding-with-no-bride, and long afternoons visiting with King Abbar, Emily felt as if she’d known the family forever. She’d long since fallen completely in love with Daniz’s flowerscented nights, friendly people, narrow winding streets, and golden sandy beaches lapped by the Mediterranean.

Unfortunately she was afraid that she was equally in danger of falling head-over-heels in love with Lazhar. Each hour spent in his company made her admire him more. She knew it was unwise to risk her heart, but found it impossible to avoid him entirely. Not that she tried very hard, she thought, as she sat across a low game table from King Abbar, her elbow propped on the table, her chin resting on her palm while she contemplated her next chess move.

“Is the board that sad?”

King Abbar’s mild voice interrupted her thoughts and Emily looked up to find him watching her with a half smile. “What? Sad?”

“Yes, sad—you sighed. And you’re frowning rather fiercely at your rook and my knight,” he pointed out, nodding at the carved jade chess pieces.

“Oh.” Emily sat up straighter, folding her hands in her lap. “I’m sorry, I was thinking of something else when I should have been focused on the game.”