by Amelia Wilde
“Stop,” Cal says calmly, which only makes her do it more. “I’m going to dunk you if you don’t stop.”
Naturally, she does it again, and he makes a lunge. She screams and takes off running. I only laugh watching them, especially when Cal gives up after only a few steps.
“My stomach is too full to run,” he complains.
I switch on the light, and a handful of ghostly white crabs scurry away. Zee’s back at my side holding my arm and watching.
“I love chasing ghost crabs,” she whispers. “Look how big yours are!”
“That’s what she said,” Cal whispers from my other side.
I shine the light on one, and it freezes in place for a moment, watching us before scampering away. Zee has my sleeve in a death grip.
“I thought you said you liked chasing them?” I tease.
“Just as long as they run away from us.” She laughs, but it’s fast and nervous. It makes me laugh.
“You’re afraid of them.”
“I am not,” she says, jerking as my light hits another closer in our path.
I hear Cal sneaking up behind us, and suddenly Zee screams.
“Oh—OH!” It’s so loud, I nearly drop the flashlight. “Oh! Ow!”
She tugs my arm on the way down, and now she’s sitting on the sand, holding her foot, a pained look on her face.
“Are you okay?” I’m trying not to laugh.
“No…” She’s not crying, and I shine the light all around looking for whatever caused her injury.
“Did you trip over something?”
“Are you bleeding?” Cal is on his knees beside her.
“No,” she wails louder. “I’m such an idiot! I stepped on a crab, and when I jumped to get off of it, I twisted my ankle.”
We both lift her under the arms, helping her scoot back out of the surf.
“Do you think you can walk on it?” I ask.
She nods. “I’ve hurt this ankle before. I think it’ll be okay.”
Cal takes the light from me and shines it on her foot. “It’s swollen. You’ll have to spend the night.”
“What!” Zee cries, trying to rise. “Oh!” She instantly drops to sitting again.
“You’re staying the night. We have plenty of rooms and we can have a doctor here first thing in the morning to check you out.”
“I’m not spending the night. I don’t need a doctor!”
“No more arguments. Rowan?” My brother looks up at me. I’ve been frowning the entire time, unsure what to make of this.
“He’s probably right. Better safe than sorry, and we’ve got more than enough room.”
“But what about my s… sleepwear? Ava won’t know what to think.”
I feel pretty sure she wasn’t about to say sleepwear, but I let it pass. “I’m sure we can find something for you to sleep in, either something of Mother’s or—”
“Good heavens! Not a muumuu. I have T-shirts and things she can borrow.”
Zee sits for a moment blinking back and forth between us, until at last she sighs. “As long as I can call Ava and let her know what’s happening. She’s probably already asleep, but I don’t want her to worry.”
I consider offering to make that call, but I don’t. “Of course. We’ll carry you back to the house.”
We pull her up and start walking with her between us, one arm over each of our shoulders. She’s quite a bit shorter than us, especially with her shoes off, and with every hop, she jerks our necks down.
“This isn’t going to work,” I growl, stepping forward and sweeping her into my arms. She lets out a little noise, but I start walking, holding her firmly against my chest. “Trust me, this is far more comfortable.”
Cal seems a bit miffed, but he doesn’t say anything. He follows behind us on the path.
“Now I really feel like Cinderella,” Zee says softly, putting one hand on my shoulder.
She’s warm in my arms, and I study her in the moonlight. Is Reggie right? Could this girl truly solve all my problems? She’s energetic and fun, and she loves to laugh. She loves the ocean. All are traits I look for in a woman. She’s light and free-spirited, and I’m just noticing in this light… she’s beautiful.
Her cheeks are flushed from running on the beach, and her hair hangs in messy waves around her soft shoulders. Her lips are full and pink, and something about her reminds me of Ava. Ava. It all goes back to Ava.
Zee’s watching me with equal intensity, and I realize I should say something. “I hope your foot doesn’t hurt too much.”
“It feels okay, actually.” Her voice is quiet. “It really is an old injury. It’ll probably be fine in the morning.”
“Still, we should have it checked out.”
“I’m afraid you’re both overreacting.”
“It’s swollen, and you can’t walk. We’re not overreacting.”
Her bottom lip goes between her teeth, and I wonder if I should try kissing her. Just to see if something happens. I haven’t kissed Ava yet… My brow lines, and I almost growl. I can’t get her out of my head.
Zee misinterprets my mental distress. “I’m sorry. I’m too heavy. You don’t have to carry me.”
“No… it’s not that.” Racking my brains… “I was just thinking I need to find a nightgown for you to wear.”
“It’s too much trouble. I can go back to the Fontaine.”
“It’s no trouble at all. You’re staying here. That’s an order.”
Her eyebrows shoot up. “By order of the king?”
I exhale a laugh at the gruffness in my tone. “By request.”
“In that case, how can I say no?”
9
Damsel in Distress
Zelda
I didn’t have to act too hard when Rowan swept me into his arms like some kind of swashbuckling hero. It was shocking and very sexy, and Reggie was right. A little damsel in distress helped get both of us on the right page, at least temporarily. In the moonlight, as he carried me, I was able to study him up close.
He’s such a focused, brooding fellow. His dark hair is a little too long, but it hangs in attractive waves around his temple and collar. His square jaw and lowered brow give him a sexy-menacing look that I’m sure sends panties flying. I know my heart beat a little faster when he looked at me. He’s strong and confident, and he’s got the bossy king persona down pat. But what nails it all, the icing on the cake, are his gorgeous blue eyes. They glow in all that dark deliciousness like the turquoise waters we just left behind.
Once we reach the house, he lowers me onto one of the cushioned loungers and kneels at the end, taking my injured foot in his large hands. I don’t miss Cal lurking in the background, arms crossed and frowning. It makes me want to tease him. I want to ask him if he’s jealous. What the hell? Get it together, Zelda!
“Does this hurt?” Rowan slides his hand up to the ball of my foot and gently pushes it toward me. I’m so glad I opted for that paraffin pedicure. My foot’s as soft as a baby’s bottom right now, and my nails are painted shimmering coral.
“It’s a little stiff,” I answer, giving him a smile.
“And this?” His hand slides over the top of my foot, slowly pulling it toward his chest in a point.
“That feels okay.”
Our eyes meet, and his lovely blue ones are warm. Suddenly my oversized rose-gold phone appears in my face. I jump back and glance up at Cal, who is giving me a perturbed look.
“You wanted to call your friend, remember?”
“My friend?” I’m confused. Oh, shit! “Ava! Of course.”
“Hmm,” he says and walks away.
“I’ll give you some privacy,” Rowan stands. “Let me know when you’re ready to go up. I’ll find something you can wear to sleep.”
“Thank you.”
I decide to send a text rather than call, since I’m pretty sure she’s asleep. I’m partway through when Reggie peeks out onto the terrace. He looks quickly back in the room before hustling over to w
here I sit.
“Great work!” His eyes are shining. “That ankle injury is just what we needed.”
“I didn’t do it on purpose,” I grumble, looking down at my stupid foot. “I was going to try drowning.”
“This is better. Use it to your advantage. I’ll check back later to see how it’s going.”
He pats my head and returns to the living room, where I hear him telling Rowan goodnight and to keep him posted on my status. I finish my text just as Rowan returns to my side.
“Ready to go up?” His low voice is warm, and I give him a smile.
“If I’d known you’d be carrying me all around the place tonight, I’d have eaten less dinner.”
I’m in his arms in one quick sweep. “You’re not heavy. I already told you.”
We’re back in that intimate embrace, his dark, square jaw and shimmering eyes mere inches from my face. I wonder if I should try to kiss him? Is that too fast? Reggie would probably suggest I get the party started, but I don’t entirely get Crown Prince Rowan Westringham Tate. He’s such a serious person. Instead, I put my hand behind his neck, allowing my fingers to lightly thread in his dark hair.
He stops to open a large, white door, and we step into a bedroom that almost makes my eyes bug out. It’s similar to the dining room with beige stone walls and exposed wood beams lining the ceiling. A huge bed is at the back wall beside another enormous, arched window. It’s covered in the softest-looking duvet, I know I’ll sleep like a baby in it. A brass chandelier hangs from the ceiling, and six small pictures are arranged in a pattern beside an enormous flat-screen television, which hangs above the beige painted-brick fireplace.
Rowan carries me to an overstuffed loveseat with an oversized ottoman in front of it. A tray holding a crystal decanter of water topped by a matching crystal glass, a gold-rimmed saucer with two adorable, pale-purple cookies, and two discreet blue-gel capsules on a linen napkin is on one half of the ottoman. Rowan lowers me onto the small couch and props my injured foot on the other half.
“You thought of everything,” I say as he sits beside me on the edge of the small sofa.
“I can’t take credit. The kitchen sent that up.”
His toned thigh is warm against my leg as I lean forward. “Ibuprofen, and… What are these little cookies?”
“Lavender macaroons. I highly recommend them.” He smiles and waits a moment. “Will you be okay? I’ll have one of the staff bring up a cane so you can get around.”
“I’m sure I can walk on it. You don’t have to carry me everywhere.”
“You couldn’t have walked up those stairs, but if you think you’re fine, I’ll say goodnight.”
My lip is back under my teeth. Should I go for a kiss? Reggie is going to kick my ass if I don’t at least get a kiss out of all this drama. I’m beginning to hate this con. Of all the jobs I’ve done, I never let emotions enter the picture. I feel like a bad Cinderella, playing games with the handsome prince’s heart. I don’t believe he’s as careless as Reggie makes him out to be, or as much of a threat to his country’s security.
He starts to rise, and with a heavy heart, I smile. “Doesn’t the gallant prince deserve a kiss?”
Looking down at me, I see the hesitation in his eyes. I hold my smile, even tilting my head to the side in a playful way. Something changes in him. That intimidating focus returns, and he sits beside me, closer this time.
My heart beats faster as he reaches for my cheek and pulls my mouth to his. Our lips touch, but he doesn’t push mine apart. He doesn’t plunge his tongue inside, taking no prisoners the way his brother did at the museum. Instead he kisses me gently, a few times in quick succession. It’s very tender and curious.
With a deep breath he leans back and looks into my eyes a moment. I don’t say anything. It was a very nice kiss. Nice.
“Goodnight, then,” he says and goes to the door, leaving the room without a look back.
I exhale a big sigh and lean forward to scoop up the pain relievers. My foot isn’t really injured. I know from experience, it’ll ache tonight and be fine tomorrow. I step gingerly on it and do a little skippy-walk to the bed where an enormous lavender silk gown is lying.
My mohair sweater and damp leggings are off, and I pull the giant thing over my head. It’s luxurious, soft as whipped cream, and clearly expensive. The bodice is a crisscross network of tucks and ruffles, and the silk belt is longer than my arms. I suppose it should be tied at the back, but I need to use it to lift the whole contraption up and tie it around my neck.
“I never sleep in a gown!” I whisper to myself as I limp over to the oval, full-length mirror in the corner. “I look like a little girl in her granny’s clothes!”
It makes me giggle, when I hear a soft rap on the door. It’s some maid bringing me a cane, I’m sure. What an old grandpa Rowan is, I think, shaking my head. A sexy old grandpa, I add.
I jump when I see Cal leaning against the doorjamb, dressed in loose pajama pants. His lined torso is easily visible through the thin button-up he’s wearing. The moment he sees me, he explodes with laughter.
“What the hell are you wearing? A tent?”
My face flares red. “What are you doing here?”
“I brought you something to sleep in.” He holds out a bottle of champagne. “And this to kill the pain.”
“Leave it on the table.” I turn and pull (and pull and pull) the sides of the nightgown up so I can skippy-trot back to the love seat.
“You’re going to break your neck as well as your ankle in that thing.” He follows me inside the room and closes the door. “If you don’t drown in silk first.”
“My ankle isn’t broken. Anyway, your brother brought me ibuprofen and this gown to sleep in.”
He shakes his head. “What a shocking lack of imagination.”
“I think he must have a pretty great imagination if he thought this would fit me.” I look down at all the silk pooling in my lap. “Or I really was incredibly heavy, and he was only being nice.” Nice. Like that kiss.
“My brother’s an idiot. Here,” Cal drops a small stack of clothes in my lap. “You’ll sleep in this. Go change.”
“And where do you suggest I do that?”
“Around the side of the fireplace. I won’t look.” My eyes narrow, and he holds up both hands. “I promise.”
“I haven’t decided if you’re honest.”
“Smart girl.”
Standing, I gather (and gather and gather) the sides of the gown so I can limp to the somewhat hidden corner beside the fireplace.
“You haven’t eaten your macaroons!”
“Help yourself,” I call, placing the navy tee and boxers he brought me on the edge of the fireplace.
“I’ll wait for you,” he says quietly.
I quickly pull the silk circus tent over my head. Cool air swirls around my bare breasts, tightening my nipples, but I’m only exposed long enough to toss the gown on the bed and whip his tee over my head. My senses flood with the deliciously spicy man-scent of Cal’s shirt, and I’m stepping into the shorts when I glance up and catch his hazel eyes in the oval mirror.
I straighten fast, pulling up the boxers and then jamming my hands on my hips. “You watched me change.”
He looks down, but the sides of his mouth curl in a grin. “It’s true. I did. I couldn’t help it. You have great tits.”
“You are not a gentleman.”
“True again. Sorry.” He peeks up, humor lurking in those damn irresistible eyes. “But you already knew that part, didn’t you? As smart as you are?”
My lips twist as I try not to smile. I will not let him get to me this time. It sounds like the cry of the defeated in my brain.
“You’re a prince. You’re supposed to be noble and all that shit.”
“Lies, all lies. I blame Walt Disney for that propaganda.” He leans forward to pour two glasses of champagne, and I limp to the sofa again, still doing my best to be angry.
“Princes are only noble
because of our parents,” he continues, handing me a glass. I take a sip of the sparkling wine. “Otherwise, we’re just like every other male.”
“How’s that?”
“Looking to get laid.”
I nearly choke. “Well… go look in some other room.”
“Really?” He makes a sad-puppy face and my insides squeal. “I like this room. It’s one of my new favorite rooms.”
Shifting my position, I find the remote under my butt. I pull it out and turn on the television. “Then you have to watch TV.”
A French-dubbed Saved by the Bell pops up, and I can’t help thinking perfect. It’s not romantic in any way.
Cal makes a little growly noise that makes me grin and shifts his position to watch. Our sides are touching now, from waist to hip to knee in a blazing line I fight to ignore. I take another sip of wine.
After a few minutes of watching a fuzzyheaded Screech follow the gang around wearing enormous goggles, he finally asks, “Are all American high schools like this?”
“This is as true to American high schools as Disney is to princes.”
“Touché.”
We resume silently watching, when I notice two fingers wiggling beneath my palm. My eyes flicker down to where Cal is doing a not-so-sneaky job trying to hold my hand.
He sees me catch him and laughs. “Give me that remote.” He puts his glass down before snatching the black rectangle from my hand. Channels flicker past like a kaleidoscope, until he stops on one. Woody Harrelson is at a craps table with a group of partying ladies. “This is more like it.”
It takes a moment to realize what it is. “Indecent Proposal?” My nose wrinkles as I finish my glass. “Gag.”
“Don’t tell me you hate movies.”
“I love movies. I hate stupid ones that are totally unbelievable and rely on such obvious emotional pandering to attract viewers.”
“Big words, Miss Benedict. I think you really love it.”
“I do not!” I dive for the remote, but he laughs and leans back, putting us chest to chest, with me on top.
“Hmm…” He slides a hand under my tee and over the bare skin of my lower back. Chills skate across my arms, and my entire body heats. “I think you like this.”