Steady. He was in America, not Tulay. And as much as the sight of that buffoon ogling Briony’s backside, shown off to curvy perfection in slim-fitting blue jeans, irritated him, he had no desire to sink to the depths his future father-in-law, the King of Linnaea, had so frequently descended to. The man was a tyrant, like his father before him. The heir apparent, Alaric Van Ambrose, wasn’t the despot his sire had been in his younger years. But the prince of Linnaea had a heart of ice that rivaled the freezing temperatures outside.
What would Briony think when she met her half brother and father for the first time? Two men who couldn’t be more unlike her in every conceivable way, and from what the king had said, Briony had no idea they even existed. Her mother had concealed everything about her royal origins from her.
A slight smile curved his lips. He wished he could have met the woman who defied King Daxon Van Ambrose before she’d passed. Although judging by how firmly Briony handled the customers who got a little rowdy, the late Marie Smith, formerly Carmichael before she’d gone into hiding from her past lover, had taught her daughter well.
He pretended not to see Briony’s green gaze flicker his way as she mopped up some beer Justin had splashed on the bar top. He’d accepted that once he’d discovered Briony’s existence, he would be wed to the woman who would provide both revenge and salvation. It was his destiny.
The looming question, however, was whether or not Briony would accept hers.
CHAPTER TWO
BRIONYCLOSEDTHEdoor of the Ledge behind the last of the patrons and released a sigh that echoed in the cavernous room. The couple had hung on until the bitter end, well past the eleven o’clock closing time. She glanced down at her phone and sighed again.
Nearly midnight. And she had to get the twins up at six.
“You’re nicer than I am.”
Briony whirled around, wielding her phone above her head. Cass moved with lightning speed, one arm circling around her waist and drawing her flush against him as he grabbed her wrist and deflected the blow.
“Not the greeting I was expecting,” he said, an amused smirk crossing his face.
“Why did you sneak up on me?” she demanded. She had intended to sound firm. Instead, she sounded breathless and husky. Her body had gone from fear to heightened awareness in the span of a heartbeat. Hard not to be aware when she could feel the hard muscles of his chest pressed against her breasts, his woodsy scent filling her senses as she inhaled sharply.
“I thought you saw me. I was sitting in the back corner.”
She glanced in the direction he’d gestured. The corner booth was shrouded in shadow. Wariness flickered through her. Had he deliberately sat there so she wouldn’t see him? So that he could stay undetected until the last guest left?
She shook off her sense of foreboding. It was late, and she was letting her imagination run wild.
“No, I didn’t.”
She’d been more disappointed than she should have been when she’d turned around after serving a group of hunters and found Cass’s barstool empty. But she’d pushed through, focusing on filling drinks and not on glowing caramel-colored eyes that made her deliciously warm.
Slowly, Cass released his grip and stepped back, giving her space. She swayed forward before she caught herself. What was wrong with her? She never reacted like this to a man.
“I saw that you were the last one here.” His voice carried a thread of steel, as if he was angry on her behalf. The thought touched her and filled her with a different, cozier kind of warmth. When had someone cared about her?
Not since Mom. The knowledge that he had stayed to make sure she was safe was like a balm to her bruised and battered heart.
“Gus, the owner, normally stays,” she said past the lump in her throat. “But his wife just had a baby and she isn’t sleeping well, so I told him to go home.” She gestured to the snow-covered prairie outside the windows. “Not like we live in a dangerous city.”
“You never know when danger might strike.” With the way Cass was looking at her, she had a feeling that the biggest threat was standing less than three feet away. Not dangerous, she realized, at least not in that she feared he would harm her. But dangerous in that he was the kind of man who could make her throw her inhibitions to the wind and do something spontaneous.
“Anyway,” he continued, “I thought you could use a hand.”
She stared at him for a moment. “What?”
He gestured to the glasses lined up on the bar waiting to be cleaned and the bags of trash by the door.
“Help.”
Her eyes slid from the crisp black polo molded perfectly to his broad shoulders down to his tan slacks and leather shoes. She’d bet his ensemble equaled a few nights’ worth of tips at least. Not to mention he was a very mysterious, very wealthy businessman. Why on earth was he offering to help a lowly barmaid?
Before she could reply, he stepped forward and took her hand in his. Her lips parted on a gasp as he brought her fingers up and paused, his mouth a breath away from her skin.
“I get the impression that you excel at taking care of others.” Could he feel the vibration that hummed through her body as he brushed a featherlight kiss across her knuckles? “But I’d like to help. Please, Briony.”
The simple plea, combined with the way her name rolled off his tongue, crumbled her defenses as swiftly as if he’d wielded a battering ram. She should question the attention he was paying her.