The Prince by Tiffany Reisz Page A

there.
    “Wes.”
    “Nora?”
    “Seriously?”
    “What?”
    “You said you stayed in the guesthouse.”
    “This is the guesthouse.”
    “It’s bigger than my house in Connecticut.”
    “We have a lot of guests.”
    Nora dropped her bag in the foyer and gazed around. The guesthouse looked nothing like the main house, but was no less grand in its own smaller way. The rough stone exterior masked an exquisite interior replete with plush tan and black furniture, well-matched and comfortable. Nora counted two stories, although she sensed a basement lurking underneath them. One entire wall in the living room consisted of a massive stone fireplace that climbed all the way to the ceiling.
    “Wesley, this is a little ridiculous. What is this place?”
    “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”
    “Tell me anyway.”
    “These are the old slave quarters. Refurbished, obviously.”
    Nora’s eyes went wide. “Are you serious?”
    He nodded. “Kentucky was a slave-holding state. We didn’t secede during the Civil War so the Emancipation Proclamation actually didn’t apply to us.”
    “You’re telling me that you live in actual slave quarters? Actual slaves lived in this house?”
    Wesley grimaced. “Well…if you can calling it living.”
    Nora gazed around and nodded in approval. “Kinky.”
    “Come on. I’ll show you your room.”
    “Is it a slave room?”
    “Probably.”
    “Are you going to beat me and make me change my name to Toby?”
    “How racist are you, Nora?”
    “My lone female friend is Haitian, Wes. We like to watch Roots together and chug our vodka every time someone says Toby.”
    “That’s it. Motel 6 time.”
    Laughing, Nora threw her arms around Wesley again and pulled him into a hug. She couldn’t seem to stop doing that. The reality of him still shocked her. Fifteen months apart and suddenly…here he was right in front of her. In her arms. All six feet of his beautiful, twenty-year-old body. Nora sighed against his shoulder and basked in the warmth of him, the scent of him.
    “Summer…” she whispered as she inhaled deeply. “You always smell like summer. Did I ever tell you that?”
    Wesley chuckled and Nora smiled when his chest vibrated with the sound.
    “You have. You told me that the first night I stayed at your house. You were out on the back porch sniffing the air. You said it smelled like…”
    Nora looked up at him. “Søren.”
    Wesley nodded. “Yeah. That guy.”
    “You met him. Finally. What did you think?” Nora pulled away and sat on the back of the couch.
    “I think he’s too tall.”
    She crossed her legs at the ankles and smiled. “You can tell me the truth. There is no horrible thing you can say about him that I haven’t already heard or already thought and probably already said to his face.”
    “Fine, then. I think he’s an asshole. He’s arrogant and cold, and he really truly believes you are his property. You get that, right? I know you kinky types like to play the property game. ‘He’s my slave.’ ‘She’s my pet.’ It isn’t that. He thinks he owns you. A hundred and fifty years ago, you’d be staying in this house when it was real slave quarters, and he would rape you and whip you whenever he felt like it.”
    “Probably.” She didn’t argue, couldn’t argue. “Good thing it’s the twentieth century, right?”
    “Twenty-first.”
    “He’s not a bad person. He isn’t. He is, in fact, the best man on earth, not that anyone ever believes me when I tell them that.”
    Wesley exhaled slowly. Nora cocked her head and smiled at him. She wasn’t sure if he saw the smile and she didn’t care. She just couldn’t look at him without smiling. That face of his, so sweet and handsome. Those sweet eyes. That goddamn too-long hair she was going to cut the second he let his guard down.
    “I’ll say one nice thing about him,” Wesley finally said. “He did let you come with me.”
    Nora swallowed. “There was no letting me. Wes, just