by Sandra Hyatt
Massaging her temple, Lexie looked at the head table, where Adam sat deep in conversation with an elder statesman. He had explained that it would be best for them not to be seated together tonight. No point in adding fire to the already circulating rumors just yet. She completely understood and agreed. Already she felt as if she were under a microscope.
Looking around she caught sight of Rafe, farther up her table and on the opposite side, watching her. She couldn’t fathom the expression in his dark eyes and couldn’t quite explain the effect it had on her, causing a strange discomfort. He raised his wineglass in a mock salute, then turned to the voluptuous, sophisticated blonde at his side.
Lexie’s companion finished his profiterole, wiped cream from his fingers onto his linen napkin and invited her to dance. As far as she could see, she had no choice but to accept. Taking her arm, he escorted her to the dance floor and pulled her into a formal and rigid clasp for the waltz. Lexie looked over his shoulder to avoid staring at the droplet of cream caught in his moustache.
As they danced, he continued talking politics. Specifically, his rise through parliament, and the problems with the younger politicians who thought they knew everything. Who knew one song could last so long?
Finally, the music slowed and quieted, but then segued immediately into another melody. “By the time I was elected for my third term,” he said, giving her no opportunity to decline another dance.
Rafe appeared behind his shoulder and tapped it. “Mind if I cut in, Humphrey?”
Humphrey, that was his name.
Humphrey released her, took a step back, bowed slightly, then bowed again to Rafe. “Of course not, sir.” He moved aside.
Rafe stepped in front of her. His gaze swept the length of her beaded, ice-blue gown; his undisguised masculine approval warmed her. Gentle yet sure, he took her hand in his, placed his other hand at the curve of her waist. “Thank you,” she said, when what she really wanted to do was hug him in sheer gratitude.
“Dancing with Humphrey after being seated next to him for the last two hours seemed a little too much to have to put up with. Even for a woman who wants to marry Adam.”
“That almost sounds chivalrous. And definitely thoughtful.”
“Hmm. I suppose it was,” he said, sounding surprised. They danced a few steps. “Ironic, really, isn’t it?”
“What is?” She rested her left hand on the broad strength of his shoulder, felt the power beneath her touch.
“That tonight you really do have a headache,” he said as they began to waltz, “but don’t feel you can leave.”
She hadn’t thought she’d given it away, or that Rafe had been watching her closely enough to notice. “My penance, I guess. Though I have to admit I was wondering about the protocol for leaving.”
He grinned and said nothing further. They danced in silence, his movements altogether more fluid and easy than Humphrey’s as he led her around the room. When the band next stopped, he dropped his hand from her waist and shifted to stand beside her, keeping her right hand held in his. “This way,” he said. They were on the far side of the dance floor and he began leading her, not back to her seat, but in the opposite direction.
“Where are we going?”
“You want to leave, don’t you?”
She hesitated. “I shouldn’t.”
He led her onward. “Why not? You’ve had a long day, and you’re jet-lagged.”
“Same as you.”
“Which is why I’m leaving.”
“Really?”
He stopped and turned to face her. “There are some things I don’t joke about. Besides, you have a headache. A real one this time.”
Leave her first official dinner early? Wouldn’t that be bad form? “You said yourself that I’d have to sit through these things till the bitter end.”
“You will have to stay. Once you become princess.”
“If.”
“If. Whatever. But now? Now you have a valid excuse. Now you’re under the radar, just. Now might be your only chance.”
She glanced at the head table.
“Adam won’t mind.” He read her thoughts, and mercifully didn’t add that Adam likely wouldn’t notice. They’d had a lovely but brief meeting this afternoon. He had shown her round some of the palace’s enormous manicured gardens, including the renowned labyrinth.
As they’d walked arm in arm in the sunshine, he had explained the gardeners’ efforts at conservation of his country’s native flora. He was knowledgeable and gentlemanly, and alert to her fatigue. It had been a relief to be in the company of someone easy to be with, not like Rafe, who always seemed to be watching her and whose presence filled Lexie with a strange tension.
She and Adam had parted to prepare for this evening. But throughout the meal, he had only once looked her way and had nodded—almost paternally—at her before returning to his conversation.
Rafe, on the other hand, had caught her out more than once looking at him.
“He asked me to keep an eye on you.”
She smiled. “What did you say?” She couldn’t imagine he would have been pleased to have his babysitting duties extended.
“I said yes.”
“Just yes?”
He smiled back, real warmth in his eyes. “Of course, just yes.”
“Liar.”
His smile widened. “Come on, Lexie.”
Escaping with Rafe held infinitely more appeal than staying. But it was his use of her name that swayed her. Reminded her that he was her friend. Because only her friends called her Lexie.
None of the staff seemed surprised to see them as they slipped through a kitchen the size of a house. She couldn’t suppress a gurgle of laughter as Rafe grasped her hand to lead her around counters and past the souschefs and kitchen hands, most of whom seemed to be shouting at each other.
“Rupert.” Rafe acknowledged the man who stood, arms folded, surveying the entire kitchen.
Rupert, impressive gray sideburns showing from beneath his chef’s hat, glanced at his watch. “You lasted well tonight, sir.”
“By the time I’m your age, I expect I’ll be able to last a whole evening.”
“I’m sure everyone looks forward to that day.”
“Everyone except me,” Rafe said on a smile, not breaking his stride.
“I take it you do this often?” Lexie asked.
“Since the very first state dinner I attended. Rupert was on dishes back then. He helped me find my way out of this maze.”
“Couldn’t we just have gone out the doors we came in?”
“Far less attention drawn to us this way. Too many people watch the doors.”
“It’s only because of my headache that I’m leaving. I have a valid reason. I don’t need to be sneaking about.” Although, oddly, from the moment she’d decided to leave, the headache had begun to diminish.
“So if I told you about a nightclub not too far away, where they play the most amazing music?”
“I wouldn’t be even remotely tempted.” Though she couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to dance with Rafe. Truly dance. And to watch the way he moved. Not like their earlier formal waltz, which she now recognized as merely a part of his escape plan.
They passed through another door and stepped into an empty, dimly lit corridor. As the door swung shut behind them, the chaos and noise of the kitchen ceased. Silence swamped them. He stopped and turned to face her, blocking her way. “Liar,” he said in a whisper. “You’d be tempted.”
And suddenly she wasn’t sure what temptation he was referring to. The temptation of dancing or the temptation of him? The memory of the kiss that shouldn’t have happened came back to her, flooding her with warmth. And she remembered, too, the even earlier kiss. One that back then had hinted at things she’d only guessed at.
Lexie couldn’t speak, couldn’t move.
Abruptly Rafe stepped back and turned to keep walking. Lexie clenched her fists at her side. She just needed to get away from
here, away from him. She needed to spend time with Adam.
They continued in silence, along corridors, past opulent room after opulent room, climbed broad, sweeping staircases, till finally he stopped in front of a door she recognized as her own.
Lexie pushed open the door and turned back to face Rafe, keeping one hand on the handle. “Thank you.”
He was looking over her shoulder and she followed his gaze, saw her nightgown, green and flimsy, laid out on her turned-back bed. Then she looked in the region of Rafe’s too-broad chest. “Good night.”
Gentle fingers under her chin tipped her head up so that short of closing her eyes she had to meet his gaze. She couldn’t interpret what she saw in his dark eyes. It was close to anger, and yet not. “Good night, Lexie.” He stood close, radiating heat.
For a second neither of them moved. She felt as powerless as she had outside the kitchen, as though he somehow sapped her strength, diverted her will. In a way that was all wrong and exhilaratingly right.
All wrong. She focused on that thought. She was here to get to know Adam, not the Frog Prince. She wanted Adam to look at her with something of what was in Rafe’s gaze. She wanted to feel with Adam that same yearning she felt now to lean into Rafe, to slide her arms around him.
She was lonely. That’s all it was. She was away from her home, her country, and despite her years of contact with Adam, the last few days with Rafe meant it was him she knew best. It was only natural that she wanted to turn to him. Once she’d spent more time with Adam, that would change.
Her breath caught as Rafe lifted his hand to her hair. She felt quick deft movements and then her hair tumbled down around her shoulders. “Better,” he murmured, and she wasn’t sure whether it was a statement or a question. He ran his fingers down a lock, then lifted her hand, turned it over, uncurled her fist and dropped her clips into her palm.
“Go to bed, Lexie.”
Rafe tried to concentrate on his father’s words as the prince made his speech for the official opening of the anniversary-week celebrations. The proximity of the woman seated on his left between him and his brother made the task almost impossible. The woman who’d been nothing but trouble since that first day in Boston. Big trouble—no matter how placid and regal she looked in her rose-colored dress with her beautiful hair pulled up into a twist at the back of her head.
When he’d convinced her that coming here was the right thing to do, he’d thought that that would be his reprieve. Showed how wrong he was.
At least now she wasn’t his problem. Her relationship with Adam was progressing. They’d spent most of the two days she’d been here together. The fact that she was seated at Adam’s right was significant. Did she know that little tidbit, and what it signaled, would have the royal-watchers all aflutter and would be all over the newspapers by tomorrow morning?
She was getting her wish, her dream come true.
He’d been observing—watching and listening to Adam. His brother was solicitous toward Lexie, charming. Smiling and handsome. They looked good together. They made the perfect couple. That fact should please Rafe.
But it didn’t.
He didn’t know why he was so fascinated with Lexie. Possibly it was only because he couldn’t have her. Couldn’t ever have her. Maybe he needed to date even more. Find someone like her. No. Not like her. Because he didn’t want serious. The problem with Lexie was that she confused him, somehow tied him up in knots, made him forget the principles that let him comfortably live his life.
Suddenly she laughed, along with the crowd, at one of his father’s jokes, the sound a delight.
As soon as the speeches were done—there would be several more after this one—he was getting out of here. He needed to be somewhere, anywhere else. Maybe even a different country, if he could arrange it.
Lexie glanced at him, her face alight with her recent laughter, her eyes sparkling.
She leaned closer and started to speak.
“Lexie, listen to my father.” He cut off whatever she’d been about to say.
Lush, rose-colored lips shut together.
He hadn’t done it to stop her talking, although that was probably a good thing, but he’d realized his father had started telling a story about Marie, Rafe’s mother, something he’d seldom done in the years since her death, preferring to keep his memories private. And he was discussing his hopes and dreams, something he never did, either, because he didn’t believe in them, believing in facts and work and duty.
Henri turned to the side of the dais and Lexie’s mother, Antonia, walked in, looking both serene and smug as she made her way to stand beside Rafe’s father.
They both looked at Adam and Lexie. It meant only one thing. Rafe followed their gazes, saw Lexie’s surprise and confusion. Adam wasn’t confused, Adam knew precisely what was happening, though Rafe was guessing Adam hadn’t sanctioned it because he saw the infinitesimal shake of Adam’s head, the subtle glare at their father.
“We are so pleased,” his father said, “to announce tonight that we have each given our permission for my son and Alexia Wyndham Jones to become engaged. And our blessing to the future joining of the Wyndham and Marconi families.”
The crowd erupted in a joyous roar. Beside Rafe, Lexie gasped and stiffened. Adam grasped her hand. The gesture looked affectionate, but Rafe suspected that his brother was also keeping her in her seat, because she looked ready to flee. Over the rousing applause, he couldn’t hear what Adam whispered to a suddenly pale Lexie. Flashlights burst in a prolonged bright explosion.
Just days ago on the plane Lexie had told him that she and his brother were going to take things slowly and quietly. And he’d told her the palace would be working to keep things low-key. Clearly he’d forgotten to factor his father’s desire for a royal wedding into the equation.
Good old Dad. The family motto should be changed from Honor and Valor to Make It Happen—However You Can.
As the applause died away and his father finished speaking, Rafe leaned in to Lexie, his soon-to-be sister-in-law. “Congratulations.”
She turned, and for a second he saw a plea in her wide eyes. Then it was gone and she smiled, a polite, brittle smile. “Thank you.”
“Didn’t know this was coming?”
She kept that smile fixed in place. “I’ll admit it’s something of a surprise.” The smile wobbled a little. “I don’t… I’m not…”
She couldn’t look for support from him. “You must be thrilled. You’ve got your wish, your happily-ever-after.”
The smile firmed. “Yes. Yes, I have. But your father only said he’s given his permission. We’re not actually engaged.”
Yet. Clearly she didn’t have a complete grasp on how things worked in his father’s world. Adam may not have slipped a ring on her finger, but that part was now merely a formality. His gaze dropped to her temporarily unadorned fingers where they lay curled white-knuckled in her lap. “You should unclench your hands.”
Adam stood to speak and walked to the lectern to the sound of rapturous applause. “Did Adam know about Dad’s permission being granted and announced tonight?” Rafe asked. Because Adam, if unchecked, could be a little like their father. Once he’d committed to a course of action he had a way of making people fall in with him. Rafe didn’t want to have to intervene.
“Apparently, your father raised it as a possibility yesterday. But he’d said he didn’t think it was a good idea. That we weren’t ready.”
“Dad being ready and the timing being right are the only things that matter.”
“Anyway, it’ll be easier now. Adam and I can legitimately spend more time together. I can accompany him publicly.” She’d tensed up again, her shoulders rigid, as she repeated what sounded like his brother’s words.
“I wish you all the best.”
“Thank you.” Her hands clenched back into fists.
“You do make a nice couple.”
“I know.”
“The photos of the two of you at the orchest
ra were very fetching.”
“Adam says that’s largely why your father announced it. The photos, the speculation.”
Unfortunately, that announcement now meant that Rafe couldn’t leave the country as he’d planned. His leaving might be misinterpreted, or worse, might be correctly interpreted. “Dad has the very best PR advisers guiding him,” he said. “Not to mention a will of steel. He’s also shrewd and wily. And he most definitely likes to stay a step ahead of the press. They have kind of a love-hate relationship. He’s misled them more than once, and though they resent it, they respect him for it, too.”
She smiled. “I like him. Your father.”
“By and large, so do I.”
She blinked her surprise.
“He also has some unlikable qualities, but we usually ignore those.” His father was grinning broadly at Lexie from his seat behind the lectern. “He likes you, too. He always has. But that doesn’t mean he won’t use you to suit his own purposes. In the nicest possible way.”
“To suit his purposes? What does it matter to him if Adam and I get engaged or not?”
Rafe felt a sudden, cold stillness within him. She didn’t know. No one had told her that Adam had more or less been instructed to marry her. And rather more than less. Rafe certainly wasn’t the one to break that news to her, at least not here and not now. That was a job for someone far more tactful than he. Someone who loved her and could convince her of that.
Lexie was silent for a few steps. “Anyway, I’m used to dealing with people who like to get their own way,” she glanced at her mother. “And I’m not quite the pushover I seem.”
“Good for you.”
The hunted look left her eyes to be replaced by the strength he’d seen in the States. “This won’t happen unless I’m certain it’s what I want.”
Good. That meant he didn’t have to worry about protecting anyone from anyone. Not Adam from Lexie or Lexie from Adam. Apparently, they both knew what they wanted and how to get it.
Two mornings later, Lexie slipped through the hushed corridors of the palace. This early in the morning there was little activity, only the occasional servant walking quietly but purposefully. Other than a respectful nod, they paid her no attention, showed no reaction to her attire. The palace was old, its layout confusing, but despite a few wrong turns she made it to the basement level and the door to the private gymnasium. She needed to work off some of the confusion and uncertainty that plagued her. She’d told Rafe the engagement wouldn’t happen unless she was certain it was what she wanted. The trouble was, she still wasn’t certain. Adam was lovely, everything she knew him to be, and she really liked him, but…she had too many buts.