“Too damn bad.” She laughs. “Now, about your Tessa. You’re going to have to fight for her, too, because in order for you to become the man I know you can be, you’re going to need someone of her strength and intelligence by your side. Not to mention someone to laugh with...”
“Oh, I don’t…I think…she’s not—”
“Poppycock. She’s perfect for you. She’s precisely the one you need. Now, man-up and make her yours.”
***
As we approach the palace, I see Tessa standing on the far side of the terrace alone, staring up at the sky. Even from this distance, she takes my breath away. I have to fight the urge to abandon my grandmother and run to her.
“Go. I’ll be fine.”
“No, I’ll escort you inside.”
“No offence, but I’d rather be on the arm of the handsome young Ollie, if you don’t mind.” She pats my arm, then slips hers away from me. “Come here, gorgeous.”
Ollie’s ears turn pink as he hurries over and holds her under the crook of her elbow.
As I watch them walk inside, I hear her say, “So, Ollie, dear, what are your thoughts on older ladies?”
I chuckle as I jog up the three steps to the terrace and make my way to Tessa. She turns and looks at me, then smiles, but her eyes don’t light up the way they normally do when she sees me.
“What’s wrong?” I ask as soon as I am close to her.
“I broke my shoe.” She holds up one sparkly stiletto missing its heel.
“Oh, God, I’ve seen that happen to a woman once. It was both hilarious and cringeworthy at the same time.”
She sets the shoe on the stone railing. “Well, I was cringing, and everyone who saw definitely found it hilarious.”
She crosses her arms and rubs her upper arms with her fingers.
“Well, I wish I had been there to sweep you off your feet when it happened.” I take off my jacket and wrap it around her shoulders.
“That would have shut them up.” She smiles. “Thanks for the jacket. That’s a pretty slick move, Your Highness.”
“I’m famous for being slick. Now, what are we going to do about your shoe?”
“I think I’ll limp back to my room. Those damn heels were giving me blisters anyway.”
“Not on my watch.” Reaching one hand under her knees, I lift her into my arms. She squeals out a laugh and wraps her arms around my neck. When we reach a stone table, I set her down carefully and take off her other shoe.
“You must have been at the top of your class in Prince Charming school.”
I pick up one foot and rub it, and the funny thing is, it doesn’t bother me at all to hold her warm foot. Normally, there is no way in hell I’d be touching someone’s sweaty toes, but because they belong to her, they are lovely to me. “It was Prince Charm School, and yes, I was an A-plus student.”
I rub the other foot for a moment and inspect her toes. Her pinky toes have horrible red blisters along the sides. “Good God. I don’t think we’ve got one torture device in the dungeon that would outdo high heel shoes. And yet, you women put them on willingly.”
“So, you do have a dungeon. I knew it!”
“It’s used for storing wines now. They got rid of all the torture devices years ago.” I pause and examine her foot again. “Would you like me to take you back to your room? We could spend the rest of the evening snuggled up watching TV or doing some of those things I had in mind earlier…”
“As completely perfect as that sounds, you’re needed back inside. Show the people here those weren’t just nice words before. They need to know you actually will follow through with the whole accessibility thing.”
“In truth, the only person I really want to be accessible to right now is sitting in front of me.”
“And she can’t let you do it.”
Her words warm my heart. As I stare at her, I realize she is the one whom I want by my side, win or lose. “Wait here. I’ll be right back.”
THIRTY-TWO
The Clock Strikes Twelve
Tessa
I sit on the table, under the stars, inhaling his scent from his jacket. God, he smells so freaking good. Unforgettable streams out onto the terrace through the open doors, and I hum along happily to the tune. It reminds me of dancing around the living room on my grandad’s feet. I think of him and wish he were here to talk to right now because I don’t have the first clue what I should do. I’m in love with a good man for the first time, but he’s also a man I haven’t been honest with. I’ve kept one foot in his world and one back in my old one, entertaining a job offer from his nemesis. I stare up the stars and whisper, feeling very silly, “Send me a sign, Grandad. Tell me what to do.”
“Here we go.” I turn and see Arthur striding toward me, carrying a small silk bag. “I figured out a way for me to stay at the party, and you to stay with me.”
My face spreads into a wide grin. He looks so pleased with himself that it’s like catching a rare glimpse of him as a little boy. I watch as he pulls out a pair of ballet slippers.
“They belong to my sister, but she’s never worn them, so you don’t have to be disgusted by the thought of wearing used shoes.” He lifts my left foot and places it on his thigh, then retrieves a couple of Band-Aids from his jacket pocket. I watch as he wraps my toe, then picks up one of the slippers and slides it onto my foot. “Other one, please.”
I switch feet and gaze at his face as he works. His eyebrows knit together as he carefully wraps my other toe. His hands are gentle. Loving, even. “If you show this side of yourself, you’ll win.”
He looks up at me for a moment, then slides the second slipper onto my foot. “You’re saying if I spend the next few weeks fixing up booboos for the entire kingdom, I’ll win?”
“I’m not kidding. Let them see who you really are. I promise, if they meet the real Arthur, they will love you.”
“How can you possibly know that?”
“Because I quite possibly love you, and I am the worst of them.”
He drops my foot and looks into my eyes. My heart pounds and my stomach flips, and I’m suddenly terrified that I’ve said too much. This wasn’t supposed to be anything other than a bit of fun, and I sort of just told the Crown Prince I may be falling in love with him. His face is so serious, it frightens me.
Oh, God. I know he’s going to dump me. Easy or hard, it won’t really matter. All of this magic is about to come to a crashing end.
But it doesn’t.
He moves closer to me, pressing himself up against the table where I sit. I watch as his mouth opens, waiting for him to say something. Anything. But he doesn’t. He just leans down and kisses me like his life depends on it. His lips crush mine, and I taste champagne and smell his delicious cologne. I close my eyes and allow myself to fall even deeper.
I wrap my arms around his neck and feel his hands on my waist as our mouths continue to move together in the most passionate, perfect embrace. When we finally come to our senses, we’re both panting from the heat of it.
“We should go inside,” I say, regretting the words as soon as they roll off my tongue.
“Yes. We should.” He lifts me off the table and sets me onto the patio.
I flex and point my right foot, then smile. “Very comfortable, Your Highness. Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me. You’re the most exciting person here. I wouldn’t have a moment’s fun without you.”
“I find that hard to believe. There are at least two hundred single girls in there who would happily see to it that you’d have a good time.”
“Three hundred and twelve actually, but if they don’t look exactly like you, or sound exactly like you, or think exactly like you, then they won’t hold my interest for more than a minute.” He kisses me again, then pulls back and says, “Let’s go test out those dancing shoes.”
Oh, God, I am in love. I am so very in love. The feeling bursts through my chest and excites every nerv
e ending. Then that pang of guilt flickers again and douses the happiness. If this relationship is going to have any chance at all, we have to start with a clean slate, and it must start with me meeting problems head-on rather than sweeping them under the rug. “Arthur, wait. I need to tell you something.”
His face falls a little.
“Jack Janssen offered me a job…sort of. As a speech writer. He approached me at the ship christening, and I didn’t want to tell you because I didn’t know if I could trust you. Not until tonight.” I let the words spill out quickly, my heart pounding in my chest.
“I see.”
He does not look happy. Dammit. Why did I lift the rug? Why?
“And what were you to do in order to get the job?” His words are clipped in a way I have only heard him use with Damien. Bugger.
“I was to report anything useful I found to him before making it public. But I haven’t found anything—”
“But you were looking.”
“Yes. No. I mean, at the beginning I was, of course, but then things changed between us and I stopped, but I didn’t tell him ‘no.’ I’m really sorry. I should have told you weeks ago. It’s just that this entire time, I’ve had to allow for the possibility that you were just using me.” I close my eyes, unable to face him.
“Because you were worried about falling for another arsehole like Richfield.”
“Exactly,” I say, feeling a surge of relief. “I have a bad habit of falling for the wrong—” I stop, and my head snaps back. “How would you know about Barrett?”
He swallows hard. “I had to have an extensive background check run. I’m sure you’d have expected that.”
“Not really.” My entire body feels numb. “But I suppose it makes sense. Even though it is a little jarring to find out someone you’ve been sleeping with for several weeks ran an extensive background check on you.”
His eyes harden. “Yes, I suppose as jarring as finding out the woman who’s been sharing your bed has been looking to get a job by screwing you over.”
“Maybe more so, even?” I’m on the verge of sarcasm. We stare each other down for a moment, both of us intent on righteous indignation. “Wait? How extensive?”
He glances away for a second, and I know I’m about to get the upper hand, even though I’m sure I don’t want it.
“Job history, educational background, previous addresses, financial status…”
I back up a few steps to put some distance between us. Nope. Don’t want the upper hand.
Arthur takes one step toward me. “Tessa, the order was given before you even got here, when you were considered the biggest threat to my family’s reputation. But I promise you, I’ve made sure the results of the report will be kept a secret.”
I scoff at the word secret, which in his world extends to a circle of people no fewer than twenty-wide. “What else did you find out about me?”
“That you’ve had some exceptionally bad luck with men. I also may have seen and used some information from your old online dating profile, but that was before I really got to know you.”
I suddenly feel sick. “Oh, my God. Do you even like Jelly Babies?”
“Not really. They’re a little too sweet.”
“Arthur! There you are.” I turn my head and see an absolutely gorgeous redhead striding toward us, her black gown swaying along with her tiny hips.
“Brooke. I didn’t think you were able to make it.”
Brooke? Lady Doctor Brooke Frigging Beddingfield? He didn’t think she could make it? Oh, Christ, I really don’t have the first clue what this man has been up to when we’re not in bed together.
“I wouldn’t miss this. I flew in late this afternoon.” Ignoring me, she kisses him right on the lips. A long one, too, not a little peck.
Arthur pulls back, looking more than a little uncomfortable. But who is he uncomfortable to be seen with? Me or her?
“Brooke, I’d like you to meet Tessa.”
She glances me up and down, then says, “Charmed, I’m sure.” The look in her eyes says she’s anything but charmed to see me. “I hope you won’t mind, but I need to steal the Prince away from you.”
Clearly done with me, she turns to Arthur. “There are some very important people you’ll want to meet, and I’ve managed to arrange a little sit down with them on your behalf.”
“Oh, well, thank you. I’ll be there in a minute. I just need to finish this conversation.”
“I’m afraid they won’t wait.” She smiles sweetly, but underneath that smile is a very determined woman.
I give Arthur a meaningful look. “Don’t waste the opportunity on my behalf. I’m pretty sure we’re done here anyway.”
He stares at me for a moment, then nods. “Very well.”
Brooke links arms with Arthur and maneuvers him in the direction of the ballroom. I watch them walk away, my head swimming in the murky waters of our deceit.
I take a few minutes to collect myself, then set my shoulders back and walk into the ballroom, trying desperately not to notice the slippers hugging my feet. Trying not to think about what almost just happened between us or whom he’s with at this exact moment. I walk quickly, hoping to get through the ballroom unnoticed. I’m almost at the doors when a hand is extended to me. I look up and find myself face-to-face with King Winston.
“Ms. Sharpe. May I have this dance?”
Well, why not? It’s only the worst moment of my life. I curtsy, then follow him to the dance floor.
He turns to me, then places one hand on my waist and uses his other to guide me around the floor. “I apologize for not finding time to meet you sooner.”
“No need. You’ve been in the middle of a crisis.”
“Even more reason to maintain one’s manners. It’s by our conduct when in our worst moments that we are judged.”
“So true.” I smile but wonder if he’s seen the report on me, too. He must have. My cheeks burn with humiliation. “I’m surprised you would want to talk to me at all, really, after everything I’ve written about your family.”
He shrugs and gives me a friendly smile. “You were just doing your job. Besides, some of it you had right.”
Well, that’s not what I was expecting to hear—not after everything Arthur’s said about him.
“My son certainly seems taken with you, and I can see the feeling is mutual.”
“He’s a wonderful person.”
“That, he is. Do you love him?”
“I…umm…”
“It’s a simple question.” He smiles, but his words are curt. “You either do or you don’t.”
“I’m afraid we find ourselves in a rather complicated situation, so some words are best left unsaid.”
“He told me you were intelligent. I must confess, I didn’t quite believe him, but now I see it for myself.”
“Thank you, Your Majesty.” Thank you? For assuming I’m an idiot?
“If you are in love with him, you now find yourself in the unfortunate position of making a very difficult choice. You can declare your love for him, thus losing any shred of professional credibility you’ve managed to cling to and costing him his crown, or you can leave him, thereby saving both your own career and his.”
He pauses, then gives me a smugly satisfied look before going on. “As his loving father, which of those choices do you think I’d like to see you make?”
“The second one.”
“Smart girl. I’m assuming smart enough to realize that were you and my son to get married, you’d only ruin him.”
Ruin him? Nah-uh. I was just about to slink out of Arthur’s life, but now I may have to change my mind, even if it’s only to prove this arsehole wrong. “How exactly would I ruin your son?”
“By being you. Arthur can’t marry some armpit-sniffing, breast-checking, accident-prone commoner. He needs someone graceful, accomplished, and well-born as his queen. Someone people will respect and admire.”
“Precisely.”
Ouch. Here’s the King Winston that Arthur warned me about. It’s like he somehow knew exactly what to say that would hurt the most. Everything I’ve said to myself. I am nothing, no matter what Arthur says.
The King goes on. “I know this must be difficult for you to hear, but I only want to do what’s best for both of you. At some point, the fog of new passion will lift and Arthur will see he’s made a terrible mistake. Better to know early on than when you’re in too far.”
My heart feels like it’s being squeezed with every word. I want to tear away from this awful man and run from him, straight into Arthur’s arms, but then I realize I don’t want to run to him either, since he very likely has just been using me this entire time.
The song ends, and King Winston keeps hold of my hand. “You don’t look well at all. I’ll have my man Damien escort you to the vault to return that necklace.”
I believe my carriage has just turned back into a pumpkin, hasn’t it?
THIRTY-THREE
Ridiculous Hats & Bitter Disappointments
Arthur
It’s nearly two o’clock in the morning. The guests have finally left, and I can’t find Tessa anywhere, which has panic rising in my chest. Brooke’s timing could not have been worse. If only I had a chance to explain to Tessa that it was all real. Everything I said to her, I meant. But then again, maybe it was only real on my end. She’s the one who was looking for ammunition to hand over to Jack the Wanker Janssen. I’m angry and hurt, but I still hate like hell to know she’s feeling the exact same way about me.
After Brooke showed up, I ended up stuck in a long, but vital discussion with some very powerful friends who are willing to pull out all the stops on our behalf. I could hardly leave them to go find Tessa, but now as I hurry to the private residences, I know in my gut that she’s gone. I check her room first, letting myself in with the key that she gave me weeks ago. Her bed is made. The closet empty. She is gone. I hurry around the suite for any sign of her, then rush to my room.
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