The Outcast Prince by Shona Husk Page A

blood and spread throughout her body. Lust consumed her and for a moment she wanted to forget the work that needed doing and just go upstairs. He pulled away almost reluctantly.
    “Stables?” Caspian inhaled and straightened as if readying himself to face something awful. He wasn’t kidding when he said he didn’t like deceased estates. She reached out her hand to reassure him that she didn’t mind him poking around. His hand closed around hers. Warm and firm. She’d stayed up late the night before bagging Gran’s clothes and personal belongings. It had been horrible and she’d been glad there’d been no one there to see her. But it was done. The only things left in that room were the jewelry and furniture and a diary that she’d slipped into her purse for safekeeping. There was nothing personal here now, just history. Boxes and trunks and cupboards of history.
    She led him out the back. His gaze flickered over the garden that could do with some attention, pruning, weeding, and all the other little tasks that went into making a garden look great instead of scrubby and overgrown. Something rustled to the right and he tensed. His hand gave hers a slight squeeze.
    “Are you okay?” She raised her eyebrows. He’d seemed a little jumpy when he’d arrived. Was he just as nervous as her? Maybe they shouldn’t even be thinking about it if it was making them both wired… or maybe they should just get it out of their systems. The all-in method as opposed to testing the water with one toe first.
    “Yeah, it’s just been one of those days.”
    “The kind where you wished you’d stayed in bed?” Everything out of her mouth was about beds.
    “Exactly that kind of day.” He nodded as he spoke as if he was reliving the highlights. “But I’d rather be here than at home alone.”
    “Me too.” It was nice to have someone to spend the evening with. Someone who didn’t care if she was in old jeans and a T-shirt and covered in dust. She yanked open the shed door, which squealed like it was dying. The sound set her teeth on edge. It hadn’t made that noise last time. She swung the door again, but it was silent.
    “Old hinges; must have been a flake of rust caught in there.” He put his hand on the door and had a look just to be sure.
    Lydia pulled a flashlight off the shelves and flicked it on. Something moved in the shadows, and glass smashed. Her heart bounced hard in her chest. “What the hell?”
    Caspian muttered something, then spoke up. “Mice?”
    “I haven’t seen any.” She cast the beam of light around the shed with a shaky hand, but this time nothing moved.
    Very strange. And now she was alert to every rustle as if she was the one who’d drunk too many espressos. Whatever twitches Caspian had tonight were catchy.
    “These two trunks.” She indicated two black trunks with metal corners, both padlocked closed. “Once they are out, I can start pulling out the smaller things.”
    He stood next to her, close enough that their arms bushed. Deliberate or accidental? A shiver of heat ran under her skin. Then he touched the top trunk and gave it a test nudge. “It looks frequently used.”
    “How can you tell?” She turned to face him.
    His lips opened, and this close all she could think about was kissing him again. Was she really that desperate? She glanced at him and the way the torchlight caught his features. He looked otherworldly. Her heart gave a flip-flop that was somewhere between attraction and warning.
    “Less rust on the lock. Do you have the keys?” His words were about work but his gaze was on her mouth; he looked up and met her gaze.
    Those green eyes were more dangerous than all the glaciers in the Arctic. Whatever was going on behind them was hidden until it was too late. He wanted her and was trying to do the right thing; because of that she wanted him more. She wouldn’t be the only woman. His eyes combined with his dark curly hair made him the kind of man who’d leave a trail of