Taming the Prince by Elizabeth Bevarly

learned as a first-year student had been “Trust no one and nothing.” But no. She had been under the spell of Shane Cordello, too wrapped up in dreamy fantasies about his blue eyes and silky hair and what it would be like to—
    Drat it all, she was doing it again. It was no wonder they were in their current predicament, so foolishly and school-girlishly had she been behaving. Well, no more of that. Sara Wallington would not be caught with her pants down again. To put it in the charming American slang.
    The Black Knights had by now herded Shane off the jet, and she saw that, although they’d allowed him to don his denim jacket, they’d taken his shoes, too. And, like Sara, his hands were bound behind his back, as well. They’dseparated the two of them after that initial confrontation, putting Shane at the front of the cabin and Sara in the back. He didn’t seem much the worse for wear at the moment, she noted, though he did look even more tired—and angry—than he had before. When he glanced over at her, his expression went harder still, and she realized his focus lingered on her cheek. Oh, yes. Even in the darkness, she must look like the very devil—or, at the very least, like the new world heavyweight champion—if his expression was any indication.
    The biggest of the Black Knights pushed him toward Sara, and Shane stumbled a bit before regaining his equilibrium and righting himself once more. Somehow he seemed even larger as he completed the action, as if he were flexing every one of his—not unimpressive—muscles as he straightened. His expression was murderous when he stood upright again, and it occurred to Sara that, between the two of them, if no others joined the dissidents, they might stand a chance of escape. All she had to do was plan well. And wait for the proper moment. And hope that Shane Cordello was as good as he looked.
    Ah, for escape plans, she meant.
    “You okay?” he asked softly when the Black Knight who had shoved him toward Sara returned to his compatriots and began to confer with them in low tones.
    She nodded, thinking his concern was sweet…before halting herself from thinking about him at all. No need to get lost down that route again. She’d already caused enough trouble that way. “I’m fine,” she told him quietly. “Just feeling very stupid at the moment.”
    He looked puzzled. “Why should you feel stupid?”
    “Because I should have been prepared for something like this,” she told him. “I never should have allowed it to happen.”
    His expression grew even more confused. “How could you possibly have been prepared for something like this?And why should the responsibility for it happening be yours anyway?”
    In response, Sara only shook her head. Things were much too complicated to try and explain it all to him at present.
    “What’s going to happen to us now?” he asked. But he didn’t sound fearful or anxious when he voiced the question. No, there was only hostility and contempt in his tone.
    “I imagine they’ll hold us hostage while they make their demands,” she told him.
    “What kind of demands?”
    “Judging by their comments on the jet, they’ll threaten to harm you if Penwyck doesn’t cancel its alliances with Majorco and America.”
    “You mean it’s my fault that we’re in this situation.”
    She looked at him, surprised. “I didn’t say that.”
    “You didn’t have to.”
    “Shane, I’m not blaming you for this.”
    “I know. You’re blaming yourself.”
    “I’m blaming those bastards who hijacked the plane and took us hostage. No one else.”
    “But if I hadn’t come…”
    He left the sentence unfinished. Not that it needed finishing. In spite of that, Sara wanted to finish it for him, wanted to point out that if he hadn’t come, then she never would have met him, never would have seen his beautiful blue eyes or his bewitching smile that made her heart turn over, or—
    Drat. She truly must put an end to all this