Taming the Prince by Elizabeth Bevarly Page B

at any rate. She was certain they were still under guard stationed elsewhere in the building.
    The room where they found themselves smelled dusty and faintly of cinnamon, and Sara sensed that the dimensions were quite small. Her suspicion was confirmed when, in just two small steps, she bumped into what seemed to be shelves. Empty shelves. Four steps in the opposite direction had her bumping into more.
    “Shane,” she said softly. Only after voicing the wordaloud did she realize it was the first time she had called him by his given name, and she couldn’t help grinning a little wryly. She supposed there was nothing like being taken hostage with someone to breed immediate intimacy with him.
    “What?” he whispered back.
    “Are you all right?”
    “Gee, except for being tied up, blindfolded and taken hostage by dissident traitors, not to mention exhausted, thirsty and starving to death, yeah. I’m just peachy keen.”
    Well, at least he hadn’t lost his sense of humor, Sara thought. Sort of. “I’m going to move toward you,” she said. “When I’m standing in front of you, use your teeth to remove my blindfold. Then I’ll turn around and you must untie my hands.”
    He said nothing in response to that, something Sara found curious. She would have thought he’d want to be free of his bonds, and he couldn’t be free of them until she was free of hers. Perhaps he’d received a blow to the head at some point in the evening, she thought, and now his wits were addled.
    “Shane?” she said again.
    “What?” he grumbled.
    “Can you do as I’ve asked?”
    He hesitated a moment, then snapped, “You haven’t asked me to do anything. You’re issuing orders like a drill sergeant.”
    Strangely, she felt a giggle bubble up at that. Oh, dear. All the exhaustion and tension and upheaval of the last two days were definitely catching up with her. She was getting hysterical. Now, now, Sara, none of that, she cautioned herself. Still, she couldn’t quite keep the—albeit erratic—laughter from her voice when she replied, “Well, my goodness, aren’t we just behaving like the slighted debutante?”
    “Debutante, hell,” Shane retorted. “I just don’t see who died and made you general.”
    “Well, the family name is Wallington,” she reminded him. “It’s not such a far cry from Wellington.”
    There was another curious silence from him, then, “Oh. Well. Yeah. Okay. But I still don’t see why you’re suddenly the one in charge.”
    Sara bit back an exasperated sound. Men. Honestly. They were such delicate creatures. Trying again, she said—in a sweeter tone this time—“Please, Mr. Cordello, if you could be so kind, I’d very much appreciate your liberating me from my bonds. If it pleases you, I’ll move in your general direction, and if you have a moment to spare, perhaps you could orally remove my blindfold, hmm? Would that be doable, do you think? It makes more sense, after all, since you’re the taller of us. I might have a bit of a problem using my mouth on you.”
    And oh, how she wished she hadn’t said those last words, Sara thought immediately after voicing them. Because even though she had not meant them the way they sounded, and even in their current situation, when she should have her mind on a million other things, the thought of using her mouth on Shane was just too, too tempting not to consider it. As if she even had a choice in the matter. Because try as she might since meeting him, Sara had been unable to think of little other than Shane Cordello. Now, bringing her mouth into it…
    Oh, dear.
    He seemed to be thinking about her using her mouth on him, too, because yet another silence ensued, and it was infinitely more awkward than any of the others had been. She was actually grateful to hear him eject another impatient sound when he finally did, because it told her that he, at least, was able to move his mind on to other matters. At least she hoped that was what it meant. She’d