Return of the General's Daughter-Chapter 205: Prince of Northem 3

The prince extended his hand, his fingers long and elegant, the gesture formal yet charged with an unspoken purpose. Lara hesitated for only a heartbeat before offering hers in return, expecting nothing more than a courteous shake. But Prince Reuben had other intentions.

Instead of a firm grasp, he took her hand delicately—almost reverently then, with deliberate grace, lifted it to his lips. His kiss was not brief. It lingered, warm and slow, grazing her skin.

A shiver prickled down Lara’s spine, the fine hairs on her arms rising in alert. Instinctively, she tried to withdraw her hand, tugging with slightly more force than was polite. Reuben’s eyes flicked up to meet hers, startled by her resistance. Instead of releasing her, he tightened his grip ever so slightly, the pressure subtle but unmistakable.

She pulled again—a little harder—and this time he let go, not because he wanted to but because Lara had underestimated her strength and the prince, even if reluctant, had let go. He had no choice. Lara’s pull, was too strong for him.

To ease the embarrassment, the prince tried to ask in a light tone. "And may I ask," he said, his voice dropping into a low, velvety register—smooth and suggestive, the kind of tone modern women would half-jokingly label a ’bedroom voice’—"what name belongs to the hand I’ve had the pleasure of holding?"

Lara arched a brow, her mind racing. Should she give her real name? Lara Norse? Or the one she’d been told to use—Mendel?

She opened her mouth to speak, but before she could utter a syllable, another voice cut through the charged air.

"Lara. Her name is Lara Mendel," Prince Alaric answered, his tone cool, clipped.

Lara Mendel? The name sounded good in her ears. Her gaze darted toward Alaric, her eyes narrowing slightly in confusion. Why Mendel? She wanted to ask, but the question remained trapped between them, suspended in a stare that he met—but did not acknowledge.

"Her master is my physician, and she is assisting him in overseeing my recovery," Alaric said, his voice devoid of emotion.

For the briefest flicker of a moment, something passed over Prince Reuben’s face—relief, or even satisfaction. The notion that Alaric required a physician seemed to please him. But he masked it quickly, smoothing his expression into one of courtly charm, as if the slip had never occurred.

"How could a woman of such beauty occupy herself with a job so beneath her?" Prince Reuben said smoothly, though his voice carried a sharp edge. "Surely, I could offer you something far more fitting." His eyes flicked toward Prince Alaric with open disdain, as if the man before him wasn’t a prince at all, but a rival unworthy of his title.

Alaric’s jaw tensed, his hands curling into fists at his sides. Not now. Control it. His voice thundered silently in his own mind. It is not yet the time.

Lara straightened her back, drawing herself up to her full height as she regarded the prince with a steady gaze. "Your Highness," she began, her voice measured yet firm, "with all due respect, do not belittle the physician’s dedicated assistants, they could save lives after all. And who knows it might be yours," she said coldly.

Prince Reuben felt a shiver run down his spine. Was it his brother who spoke? He was mistaken, right? It seemed to be Lara Mendel’s voice, but why did he feel that the surrounding air froze? Only his brother was capable of doing that.

He chuckled and tried to look unaffected.

"My bad. I am not just used to having women in such a line of work, especially one as beautiful as you, My Lady."

’Hmmp. What an egotistic man, though he is a smooth talker. Can’t he apologize?’ Lara thought as he shifted his gaze to Alaric, sending him a look of plea. She no longer wanted to waste time.

"Come along, Lara," Alaric urged, his voice a blend of warmth and sincerity, as he gestured towards the gazebo nestled just beyond the vibrant blossoms of the garden—the soft light filtered through the leaves, casting dappled shadows on the cobblestone path.

Alaric’s gaze darted briefly to his brother, giving him a silent warning.

As a man, he understood his intentions. Knowing that his brother was a philanderer, and he was giving Lara a second look and even kissing her hand, he knew that Reuben was interested in Lara.

But how could he allow him to get close to Lara? Never!

Lara walked alongside Alaric as they crossed the room and exited into the hallway that led to the gazebo in the gardens. People looked at them as they passed, their minds whirling with different thoughts.

Prince Reuben looked at the backs of the two with interest. He narrowed his eyes, then he raised his hand, and out of nowhere, a guard, clad in a black upper garment and black pants, appeared.

"Investigate that woman. I want to know every detail about her." Prince Reuben’s gaze still lingered on the door that Alaric and Lara exited. He seemed to be a different person when talking to his guards.

"Rest assured, Your Highness. You’ll have her information by tomorrow." Then the man disappeared.

"Your Highness, who is that woman? Why is she close to Alaric?" Donald asked.

Instead of an answer, the Earl met the prince’s snort. If not for the fact that there were other people in the room, Reuben should have already kicked the old man out. How dare he look at the woman whom he has taken an interest in lustfully?

But then, a thought came to him.

"You said you’re capable," Reuben said, his face expressionless, his voice betraying it. "Investigate that woman. Didn’t you have so many connections in Carles? You use them." The prince’s words were harsh and Donald flinched.

"Yes, Your Highness," Donald replied. He went outside to take a breather.

The two generals, who were huddled together in one corner of the room, discussed among themselves, Prince Alaric and the mysterious woman.

"Do you think the woman is the Prince’s mistress?" The first general asked.

"I don’t think so. Didn’t you hear Alaric say that she was a doctor’s assistant?"

"Hmmp. An assistant? Really? I don’t believe it!"