The Royal Nanny Page 14

  She pushed her fists onto her hips and glared at him. “I don’t want you here.”

  She wanted to scream when he did nothing but shake his head at her, his footsteps not faltering or pausing until he was only inches away from her.

  “Liar,” he stated without doubt, and pulled her flush against his body, before leaning down to take her lips with his own in a bruising kiss.

  Leyah couldn’t help but feel as if he were punishing her. Whether it was for lying about wanting him, or because he’d found her snooping earlier that day, as well as her feeble excuse for why she’d been there. Or maybe he was punishing her because he knew she was hiding something. Because she was, in fact, a liar.

  The guilt that gripped her heart made Leyah gasp, giving Alastair all the opening, he needed to sweep inside her mouth with his tongue. She moaned, sinking into his hard body, her arms coming up to clutch his jacket. She whimpered in disappointment when he pulled away from her, one arm wrapped around her waist, while he lifted his other hand up to her face.

  Leyah’s eyes slid closed as he brushed the tips of his fingers down over the side of her face, before he gripped her hair and tilted her head back. She moaned as he bit the side of her neck. When he pecked her lips and stepped away, she opened her eyes. She stared at him in confusion. He was stopping there? From what she’d heard about and experienced from him, she didn’t think it was possible for him to not ravish her body if given the chance.

  Alastair shook his head at her, pointing a finger in her direction. “When I take you and make you mine—because that’s what you’ll be when I do—it won’t be with you still keeping secrets from me.” He narrowed his eyes at her. “I will have all of you, or none of you, Leyah, understand?”

  When she could do nothing but nod, he turned and walked out the door. Leyah’s heart sank. She wanted Alastair desperately, so much she’d forgotten her mission for a moment, but he asked too much of her. She could not give him all of her, so he would have none of her.

  Even if it hurt them both.

  Chapter Twelve

  A lastair strode into the exercise room he shared with his brothers and found both Augustus and Alfie inside, shirtless, sweating from the exertions of their workouts. Shaking his head because he could deduce that they were both there due to problems with women—just like he was—he went into the locker room to change, before coming out and grabbing tape to wrap his hands. He ignored the sounds of his brothers cursing and grunting around him, as he mulled over his situation with Leyah. What the hell was she hiding? He knew it was something. And he was sure it was something pretty serious. He just wasn’t sure why she wouldn’t share it with him. Didn’t she know she could trust him?

  Feeling frustration and anger well up within him, as well as confusion—an emotion he didn’t do well with—Alastair bounced up from the bench he sat on once he finished wrapping his hands and walked over to the hanging seventy-pound heavy bag. Spreading his feet apart and centering his core, Alastair began punching the bag, light and slow hits at first, in order to warm-up, then heavier, quicker jabs and punches, as he built up a sweat. He unleashed his rage and uncertainty over everything—the attacks on Algerone and himself, his attraction and budding relationship with Leyah, Augustus’s paternity of Lady Taylor’s baby, his father’s disapproval of everything he did, his sexual frustration for Leyah—on the bag in front of him. His knuckles made constant, hard contact on the bag, even as he moved and shuffled his feet, making sure to keep his blood flowing and breathing deep and even. All the sounds of the gym faded around him. He could no longer hear his brothers, nor could he hear his own thoughts, all he could hear was his own harsh breathing and a buzzing sound in his ears.

  After long moments—because who knew how long he’d been on the bag—Alastair pulled his final punch and stepped back. He panted as he strained to clear his mind and get in a full breath. He walked over to the refrigerator he and his brothers had installed in the room and pulled out a bottle of water. Opening the cap, he lifted the bottle to his lips and took a deep pull of it. He sighed as the cool, refreshing liquid flowed down his throat, quenching his thirst. Only then did he look around and realize that Augustus and Alfie weren’t the only ones in the room, Algerone and Andreas were there as well, both of them dressed to work out. Which they weren’t doing, as all four of his brothers were staring at him.

  Alastair lowered the bottle and swallowed. Quirking an eyebrow at his brothers he put the cap back on the almost empty bottle.

  “What?” he asked.

  “What the hell did that bag ever do to you, man?” Alfie teased, gesturing to the heavy bag Alastair had been using. Alastair turned to look at the piece of equipment, raising both eyebrows in surprise when he noticed the seam on the bag had torn a bit. He shook his head at his absentmindedness. He hadn’t even realized that he was destroying the bag he was so focused on expelling the frustration, the doubts, rage, anxiety, fears, and lust that boiled within his blood.

  “Nothing, Alf. Just mind your own business,” he muttered, turning to walk over to the weight bench.

  “No, no. While I don’t usually agree with the young one,” Augustus said with a smirk tossed in Alfie’s direction when the youngest Smythe prince flipped him off. “on this we agree. Something has gotten under your skin and you don’t know how to handle it.”

  “Perhaps it is a particular nanny?” Alfie suggested with a waggle of his eyebrows.

  “Wait. My nanny?” Algerone questioned, looking around at them all with his eyebrows lowered. “Which one?”

  “Leyah,” Augustus, Alfie, and Andreas answered simultaneously.

  “Et tu Andy?” Alastair glared at his younger brother.

  Andreas merely shrugged, his usual implacable expression on his face. “I noticed,” he responded.

  “You notice everything, you creepy gracvory,” Alastair muttered.

  He rolled his eyes when Andreas merely winked at him before walking over to one of the treadmills and climbing on.

  “You have a thing for Leyah, Las?” Algerone asked.

  “It’s not a thing, Al,” Alastair leveled a look on his oldest brother. “She’s mine.”

  All sound ceased in the room. Andreas turned off the treadmill and turned to look at him. Alastair refused to be intimidated by the expressions on his other brothers’ faces as they stared at him in surprise.

  “You claimed her?” Andreas questioned.

  Alastair shrugged. “From the minute I saw her walking up the drive. Then a few times after that.”

  Algerone growled. “You fucked my nanny?”

  “No! Not yet anyway,” Alastair narrowed his eyes at his brother. “Why, is that a problem? You want her for yourself or something? Isn’t it enough you already have Valerie, you want to add another black beauty to your rotation and have yourself an Algerone sandwich?”

  Alastair jumped up, spreading his arms wide when Algerone charged towards him, uncaring that Augustus stepped between them and held Algerone back. He mocked his brother, smirking when the other man cursed him repeatedly. He wasn’t afraid of his brothers. Any of them. While Augustus was huge, much bigger than the rest of them when it came to muscles, Alastair was faster than all of them. Andreas, even with his scary intensity, and his military training, did not scare him. He could outwit his younger brother at any time. And Algerone, he’d let love, marriage, and children soften him over the last few years. They might not have known for certain what was going on with him, but they knew it was something since the eldest Smythe prince had slowed down and gotten comfortable.

  “Am I supposed to be afraid of you, Crown Prince?” Alastair taunted his brother. “I’m not. I don’t care if you are Kothrar’s favorite, or if you have a wife and kids, I will not back down when it comes to Leyah. She’s mine.”

  Algerone tossed off Augustus’s hold and marched up to Alastair, getting in his face. He pointed at Alastair, his eyes narrowed.

  “That’s exactly why I’m telling you to back. The. F
uck. Off.” Algerone warned. “She’s my nanny. She’s my wife’s friend. My children love her. All of them. Even Chikere has warmed up to her. More so than his own nanny. She is the perfect addition to my family and I will not have you fuck up a great thing because you want to dip your wick in her pot for a few days or weeks before you get bored of her and she ends up leaving because she can’t stand to see your ugly face anymore.”

  Alastair growled at his eldest brother when Algerone pushed his face with his large hand. Shoving Algerone away from him, Alastair pointed.

  “It’s not like that with her! I don’t just want her for a while, or a few weeks or months. I want her. She’s mine. You don’t get it do you?” he shook his head. “She will always be mine. Until we take our last breaths and I don’t give a flying gracvor who you are, what your wife thinks, or if your kids like her. I will have her, she will be mine, and we will be together, so just mind your own quiyn business!”

  With that he jerked up his bottle of water and left the gym, ignoring the calls of his brothers to return, and Algerone’s yells cursing his name. Fuck all of them. He didn’t care what they thought or what they had to say. It took Algerone fourteen years to claim the woman he not only loved but had married and had children with. Augustus had claimed one woman but had gotten another woman pregnant. Alfie was heads over heels for Laeticia but had buried his head in the sand because he didn’t know how to handle a strong woman, now he was talking to an ex-girlfriend, though he thought no one knew. And Andreas? Well, no one knew what was going on with him. He hadn’t been the same since one best friend had disappeared months before, and another left Malvidence years ago.

  He didn’t need their input or their advice. He was doing better than all of them. He would claim Leyah and make her his and they could all just kiss his ass.

  And he would do it that night.

  Chapter Thirteen

  L eyah turned when a knock sounded on the door to her suite. Thinking it was Alastair come back to question her again, she hesitated for a moment before finally going over to open the door. When she swung it open, she had to bite back the sigh of disappointment that tried to spill forth at the sight of Danorian. As if he knew she were expecting—and wanting—someone else, Danorian quirked an eyebrow at her before stepping into her sitting room without an invitation.

  Leyah glared at the older man’s back but decided to hold her tongue until they were no longer in danger of being overheard. She closed her suite door and went into the sitting room to find Danorian peering into her bedroom. She came to an abrupt halt and crossed her arms, clearing her throat. When Danorian turned to look at her, without an ounce of guilt or surprise at having been caught looking in her bedroom, Leyah frowned.

  “Is there something you need, Japheth?” she asked him, intentionally using his first name, yet again. It was an effort to remind him of their relationship to each other, yes, but it was also so she could remind him that she had the liberty of calling him by that name, whereas he did not have such freedoms. It was, perhaps, a very snobbish and elite attitude to take, one she’d previously attributed to the Malvidencian royals, but something was happening between herself and her once-trusted guard and she needed them to be back on familiar footing with each other.

  “No, Princess,” Danorian remarked, putting the emphasis on her title. “I simply came by to check on you, and to inquire about the progress that had been made on the assignment.”

  Leyah rolled her eyes and walked over to one of the armchairs in the room. She sank down onto the cushion, gracefully, crossing her legs, and smoothing down the skirt of her gown. She knew that as assignments and missions went, this one could be seen as having been driven off the rails a bit, what with her attraction to Prince Alastair, and her friendship with Princess Valerie, but Leyah’s mind was firmly fixed on the end prize. She would not let anyone—friend, foe, or jeictas—question her loyalty to the cause, or to her people. She would not be interrogated as if she were a criminal or rebuked as if she were a recalcitrant child. She was the Princess of Waldakan, the future queen. She hadn’t forgotten, and she wouldn’t let Japheth Danorian forget either.

  “Lord Danorian, we had our discussion about the mission earlier this week, I find that is sufficient for such matters until we need to speed up the timeline. For now, however, once a week is fine. We do not need to spend more time with each other than is absolutely necessary. And when we do need to meet, I will send for you. You will not seek me out, unless you want someone to comment on our whispered conversations in bedrooms, sitting rooms, alcoves, and the like?” she stated, lifting her chin and staring at him unflinchingly.

  Danorian walked over to her, his gaze fixed on her and unwavering. He came to a stop just inches in front of her and bowed. “As you wish, Princess,” he responded but Leyah could hear the mocking sneer in his tone.

  Just as she opened her mouth to take him to task over it, there was another knock on the door. Leyah rolled her eyes and rose from her seat.

  “Would you like me to answer the door for you, Princess?” Danorian’s tone had gone from being snide to being cautious, on edge and suspicious. This served to raise the tiny hairs on Leyah’s arms and she rubbed them, even as she shook her head.

  “No, thank you, Danorian. Just, whomever is on the other side of that door will have questions as to why you are in my room this evening, after such an eventful night. So, we must be prepared for that,” she told him as she went over to the door to open it.

  She was already curtseying, expecting Princess Valerie or Prince Algerone coming to ask her to watch their children while they went off for some sort of late-night activities, or perhaps to help get the children back to sleep. However, she was surprised when it was neither Valerie, nor Algerone, standing in front of her door. When she dragged her gaze up over the sneakers, socks, dark hair covered legs, thick calves, trunk-like thighs encased in black, workout shorts, a white, sleeveless athletic shirt, which was damp with sweat, and stretched across a muscled chest, arms that were slightly tanned, and shone with a light sheen of perspiration, she felt her mouth water. However, it was when her eyes moved over the surprisingly plump, pink lips, the bristled jaw, and into the blue eyes which had grown almost black under her perusal, that her breath caught.

  It wasn’t the first time Alastair had looked at her with desire darkening his gaze, but this was the first time she felt as if the desire was not being restrained. It was wild and untampered, and she was its intended target. Leyah inhaled quickly and licked her lips, swallowing thickly. Her eyebrows rose at the sound of Alastair’s strangled groan, and the sound loosened her tongue.

  “Prince Alastair!” she gasped. “W-what can I do for you?”

  “I just came so we can finish our conversation,” he said with a slight tilt of his lips. “Am I catching you at a bad time?”

  “N-no. I was just—” Leyah stammered, her words cutting off when Danorian stepped up behind her.

  “Mexoria Źeylήia,” Danorian said with deference, bowing before the man. He turned back to her. “I will talk to you later, little cousin. I am glad you’re okay.” He lifted his eyebrows at her, his expression saying much more than his words.

  He was wondering about the appearance of Prince Alastair at her suite. So late at night. With no one about and no reason for him to be there. Leyah felt her face flush with embarrassment and shame. She glanced away from Danorian and nodded her head.

  “Yes, thank you L-Danorian,” Leyah responded, barely catching her own slip of the tongue.

  “Cousin?” Alastair questioned, his voice low and slightly menacing. “Were you unwell, Leyah? Is that the reason Danorian came to check that you were okay?”

  Leyah shook her head, her mind swirling as she tried to come up with a reason for Danorian to say such a thing.

  “No, Mexoria Źeylήia. With my cousin’s background, I worried that the sound of fireworks would bring back some bad memories for her. I just wanted to ensure she was not affected by the circumstanc
es or the noises,” Danorian answered. He frowned, and his eyebrows lowered. “Were you looking for me, Mexoria Źeylήia?’

  Alastair’s eyes moved from Leyah’s face over to Danorian. Though Alastair was tall, well over six feet, and muscled to boot, Danorian topped him by a couple of inches, and was wider in the chest, bulkier.

  Alastair nodded as he looked back over at Leyah, before returning his attention to Danorian.

  “No, I was not looking for you, Danorian. I in fact came to speak to Leyah.” He narrowed his eyes. “Not that it’s of any concern of yours. Do you not have somewhere else you should be at this moment?”

  Leyah swallowed again at the sight of Alastair’s face darkening with anger, his blue eyes flashing with menace. She wasn’t exactly sure why he was reacting in such a way with Danorian, when the older man had been with the royal family for so long, but his expression made her a bit fearful for her family friend.

  And it turned her on as well.

  Which... wasn’t that just sick and twisted? Why would Alastair’s incomprehensible anger at a man who had sworn to protect her, who was—in fact—looking out for her as she took on such a dangerous covert assignment, cause her heart to pound in her chest with excitement? Her nipples to harden? And her panties to grow moist? It made absolutely no sense. She could only deduce that being around the domineering prince, desiring him as she did when it was obviously a bad idea, had made her go crazy.

  “Yes, Mexoria Źeylήia,” Danorian responded, and Leyah wondered if Alastair could hear the hesitation and reluctance in the black man’s voice.

  Alastair folded his arms, waiting for Danorian to leave. He even stepped in front of Leyah when Danorian turned to speak to her. She was baffled. Did Alastair suspect that she and Danorian were not cousins as they’d presented themselves or was he...

  No. There was no way Alastair, Prince Alastair, could be jealous.