Lucy’s jaw dropped. Not only at his teasing accusation, but at his casual use of her name. And good heavens, the man had smiled as he spoke.
Her poor heart couldn’t take it!
And much as she’d been cross with him. Much as she was envious of Penelope and the other ladies who would be considered good enough for the mighty Crown Prince of Aldonia, she couldn’t resist this charming, smiling side of him.
She was reminded of their interlude in the alcove and was powerless against the pull of him.
“I think you’ll find my thievery only extends to gardens, Your Highness.” She smiled timidly back. “And I never did get those roses. Whatever did you do with them?”
His laugh sent shivers down Lucy’s spine.
“I couldn’t very well conduct my business while in possession of your stolen flowers, my lady. I’m afraid that I cannot live the life of a criminal like you can.”
Lucy raised a brow, hardly daring to believe that they were talking so easily.
“Ah, but with no evidence of my crime, how can you prove I’m a criminal?”
“An excellent point, my lady. And please, accept my apologies for disposing of the fruits of your labour.”
He paused and grinned conspiratorially at her, and Lucy knew her heart was in ever-growing danger of being completely lost to this man. Prince or pauper, she didn’t care. The impossibility of their situation didn’t matter.
It was simply impossible not to be thoroughly charmed by him.
“And since the fault is mine, allow me to extend an official, royal invitation to pick roses in the palace gardens. As many and as often as you wish.”
“Oh. Well, t-thank you, Your Highness,” she answered shyly.
Lucy stood, feeling decidedly unsure of herself.
If he offered to escort her now, she wouldn’t refuse.
Whatever that mood had been in his sister’s drawing room, it seemed to have disappeared. At least for now.
He was a very confusing man, all in all.
But when he was being like this, when he was reminding her of their secret interlude, and she was remembering that kiss, she found herself quite desperate to be in his company.
How she could be so utterly foolish was beyond her. She knew better than to lose her heart to a prince. Or she should.
But right now, he didn’t seem like the prince. Right now, he was just the man she’d thrown flowers at and had whispered conversations with.
It felt as though he were two entirely different people.
“I’d offer to take you to the gardens right now, but I know how long ladies require to ready themselves for dinners and dances and such things.”
“And I know how busy you must be,” she answered swiftly, lest she do something silly like beg him to take her to the gardens. “With a country to run and – and being royal,” she finished rather pathetically.
It was true, in any case, that ladies did require hours to ready themselves. Only, Lucy had never seemed able to spend her time like that. Usually, she was far too restless to laze about in lavender baths and sit for interminable times getting pins and feathers stuck in her hair.
The silence stretched with Lucy both wanting to run away and never leave.
Finally, he spoke.
“I find myself having time to spare this afternoon, Lady Lucia,” he said softly.
Lucy suddenly felt as though she were at a sort of crossroads.
He’d given her the perfect excuse to walk away from him; she had to ready herself for the evening.
And he was still that arrogant, standoffish prince who was picking a queen as though she were horseflesh.
And of course, there was the small matter of him being interested in her cousin.
And yet…
Knowing she was being downright idiotic, Lucy took a deep breath and hoped that her cheeks weren’t as visibly flushed as they felt.
“And I find that it doesn’t take me all that long to ready myself for evening entertainments, Your Highness,” she said. Croaked, really. But she got it out.
His eyes gleamed with a sudden fire that set Lucy’s stomach fluttering wildly.
She couldn’t name the emotion. And it was gone so quickly that she might have imagined it, if not for her racing heart.
Whatever it was, she knew it meant trouble.
“Then, shall we take a walk in the gardens?” His voice was deep and gravelly as he extended his arm.
Oh yes. Most definitely trouble, Lucy thought as she took the arm he offered.
The most exquisite sort of trouble there was.
Chapter Sixteen
Christopher thought of the hundred missives sitting on his desk waiting to be answered.
He thought of his criteria for a bride.
He thought of every single valid reason he had to not spend time alone with the temptress by his side.
And then he ignored all of that for the chance to be alone with her.
When he’d seen her standing there alone bathed in sunlight, something broke inside him. Something that felt very much like the defensive wall he’d always maintained around his heart.
And foolish though it was, he decided to set aside the crown for a while. Set aside the responsibilities and the requirements of a royal life, and just be Christopher the man.
Perhaps a couple of hours in her company would serve to cure whatever this nonsensical attraction was.
Her beauty he could largely ignore.
It was her sharp tongue and quick mind that distracted him the most. The vulnerable, innocent chattering. How she seemed to say whatever popped into her head and didn’t notice or care that one simply didn’t do that with royalty.
The chances were that he was only so distracted and fascinated by this because he wasn’t used to it.
If he listened to her rabbiting on awhile, it was sure to lose its charm.
Granted, he’d also assumed that his desire for her would fade. That the memory of one innocent kiss wouldn’t haunt him and keep him awake at night.
And he’d been wrong. Torturously wrong.
But this was different.
This would work.
“Are you enjoying your stay, Lucy?” he asked, watching her face closely for her reaction.
He knew better than to use her given name, of course. Especially one that was clearly only used by family and close friends.
But Lucia didn’t suit her; he’d thought that days ago.
And the truth was he couldn’t resist the intimacy of calling her Lucy. He couldn’t resist trying to get that tell-tale blush onto her cheeks.
None of the ladies of his acquaintance blushed. The reaction was so innocent, so refreshingly honest and real.
Just like her.
To his delight, her cheeks pinkened and he wanted nothing more than to reach out and stroke his thumb along one of them. But of course, he didn’t.
“I suppose your being a prince means I can’t scold you for calling me Lucy,” she said dryly. “Even though we both know it isn’t at all the done thing. Alice would positively have my head.”
He grinned at her bluntness, feeling lighter and more carefree than he had in years. possibly ever.
“Well, I won’t tell if you don’t,” he answered. “Besides, technically, if anyone could actually have your head, it would be me, wouldn’t it?”
Lucy gaped at him, a small surprised laugh bursting from her lips, and damned if the sound didn’t cause his heart to trip.
“You don’t actually behead people, do you?” she asked, her aqua eyes large and round, but there was a spark of mischief there.
They were the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen, Christopher realised with a start.
Every country he’d travelled to. Every piece of art he’d seen. They paled in comparison to the beauty of her eyes.
“I could. If I really wanted to,” he said with mock severity before he let his smile slip through the mask. “But no, I’ve never felt the need to have some
one’s head.”
“It’s nice to have the option, I suppose,” she quipped, and he couldn’t help his own laugh at her outrageousness.
“Your father must have had his hands full with you,” he said as they made their way to a part of the gardens that Christopher didn’t think Lucy had seen yet.
He was surprised at how much pleasure he was deriving from their chat. And by how excited he was to show her the gardens he was leading her to.
These particular gardens weren’t much used by anyone. Certainly not by him.
When they were children, Hari and Alex had spent a lot of time in them, but as they’d grown older they’d becoming somewhat abandoned.
But they were filled with ponds and walkways, weeping willows and an abundance of Aldonian roses. They were carefully cultivated yet maintained an air of abandonment and wildness. He knew now that the palace gardener must have designed them thus, probably to enthral the royal children. But as a youngster he’d thought them almost magical.
He had a feeling that Lucy would think the same thing.
To his surprise, instead of laughingly agreeing with his comment, a flash of sadness flitted through her expressive eyes.
“To be honest, I don’t think my father noticed much of my behaviour, Your Highness. In fact, I shouldn’t be surprised if he’s forgotten all about Alice and me now that we’re not under his feet.”
She’d said similar back in Harriet’s drawing room.
Christopher felt an odd but strangely comforting affinity with the lady.
He couldn’t imagine how anyone could ignore the lady’s presence. Or why they’d want to.
“That must be hard for you,” he said softly, drawing them to a stop.
They’d reached the entrance to the gardens, but she didn’t seem to notice. Unsurprising since it was hidden behind a wall of climbing roses. Nobody would find it unless they knew where to look.
Lucy shrugged, but he saw the dimming of the sparkle in her eyes.
“As your sister said, fathers aren’t always concerned with their daughters.”
“And as I said,” Christopher responded with an honesty that he didn’t often use, “The same can sometimes be said for fathers with their sons.”
Lucy gazed up at him, her neck tilted, her eyes shrewd and watchful.
“Surely, that cannot be true of a king and his heir?” she asked hesitantly, as though she were choosing her words carefully.
Christopher felt a moment’s panic. He’d rarely, if ever, had an honest, open conversation with someone. Especially with someone he’d only known a week.
Yet, his defences seemed largely useless around this diminutive miss. He didn’t want to lie to her. He didn’t want to be the smooth, charming, yet emotionless, royal.
He just wanted to be himself.
“It’s especially true of a king and his heir,” he said. “The truth is that a king doesn’t have time to be much of a father, Lucy. Or at least, mine didn’t.”
She blinked in surprise before she lifted her hand and placed it gently against his forearm.
The contact, simple as it was, awakened a potent desire in Christopher and reminded him that this woman presented an ever-present danger to all his carefully laid plans.
And that thought gave him the strength to step back and break the unbearably strong connection.
“I have been – somewhat unpleasant to you at times, Lady Lucia,” he said, struggling to contain his smile at her raised brow.
“You mean when you lied about who you were? Or when you acted as though my company was a punishment?”
“Both of those times,” he conceded with a bow that earned him a reluctant grin.
“But I do hope this will make up for it.”
Christopher felt almost giddy as he stepped toward the hidden gateway to his secret gardens.
He pushed aside the flowers that concealed the iron gate and with no more than a quick shove, opened it up then stepped back to allow Lucy to precede him.
He watched as she stepped through then gasped and spun around taking it all in, her eyes filled with wonder, her hair gleaming in the late afternoon sun.
“Oh my goodness,” she breathed. “It’s perfect.”
And it was. She was.
In that moment, Christopher felt as though the world itself were perfect.
Lucy tried desperately to keep her heart in her own possession as she explored this wonderful, magical place.
Prince Christopher was like a different person as they roamed about the garden, with him pointing out various things.
She could have stayed there forever. Just the two of them. No titles, no politics. Just a man and a woman enjoying each other’s company.
Of course, if anyone found out she was in here alone with the prince, she’d be thoroughly ruined here and at home.
But try as she might, she couldn’t bring herself to care.
Prince Christopher regaled her with stories of his youth, though she couldn’t help but notice that most of the adventures he spoke of belonged to his siblings and not to him.
“You didn’t spend much time here as a boy?” she asked as they watched colourful fish dart about in one of the ponds.
“I didn’t have the time to,” he answered, his eyes remaining fixed on the water. “Being the heir to a throne doesn’t leave much time for leisure. As a boy or a man.”
Though he shrugged nonchalantly as he spoke, Lucy couldn’t help but feel a pang of sympathy for him.
She thought of the elaborately decorated palace, the riches and luxury surrounding them and thought that nice as it was, it couldn’t be much comfort to a child who had never really been allowed to be a child.
“That seems a rather dull existence for a child,” she said, watching his face.
He turned to look at her, his dark eyes boring into her.
“Most people think it a privileged one,” he said softly.
“And it is, I suppose,” she answered. “But still a dull one.”
His crooked smile made Lucy’s heart beat almost out of her chest.
Why did he have to be so handsome? It was most distracting.
How was she to remember that he was destined to marry someone perfectly queen-like when he looked at her that way? When the sun made his black hair gleam, when his closeness overwhelmed her? When she could smell the sandalwood scent that made her belly flip?
“I like you like this,” she suddenly blurted and immediately felt her cheeks scald.
Prince Christopher raised a brow.
“I-I mean – well…” She stammered and stumbled for a moment before heaving a sigh of defeat. She’d opened her big mouth now, so she might as well be honest.
“I just mean that I feel as though you are two different people. The man I met in the stairway, my partner in crime.” She smiled shyly. “The man with whom I shared a secret meeting in the alcove. And then the prince. The ruler of a country all – all proud and serious and reserved. Dedicated to his people completely.”
His eyes widened slightly before suddenly narrowing, and he looked more severe than she’d ever seen him.
Well, she’d gone and done it now.
“What I meant is that you – well, that you are sometimes Prince Christopher and sometimes just Christopher and, and I like just Christopher. He’s not so severe. So intimidating.”
The silence in the wake of her outburst was excruciating, and Lucy just wanted to run away.
Why had she opened her big mouth? This place was glorious, and he’d been so wonderful, and she’d ruined it by blurting out the nonsense in her mind.
Steeling herself for even more humiliation, she opened her mouth to apologise.
But she never got the chance.
Before she knew quite what was happening, Prince Christopher reached out and pulled her into his arms, capturing her gasp of surprise in a searing kiss.
Chapter Seventeen
He couldn’t keep kissing her like this, Christopher knew.
But the devil take him, he couldn’t resist her.
He was powerless where she was concerned. And much as he’d been able to control himself up until now, when she’d spoken of his being two different people, the last of his tenuous grip on control snapped.
For the first time in his life, Christopher felt like another person knew him. Truly saw him for the man he was and not just the crown he wore.
And that affected him in ways he couldn’t even articulate.
The fact that the someone who saw the real him was the same someone to whom he felt this overwhelming attraction was too much for him to ignore.
Lucy gasped in response to his kiss, and he took full advantage of the action, plunging his tongue into the silky depths of her mouth, pulling her closer still as she mimicked his actions, setting his whole body alight.
Christopher knew he needed to slow down. She was an innocent. Nothing could come of this.
But then Lucy’s hands found their way to his hair, gripping the strands and matching his ardour with her own, and he was lost.
He groaned as the flames of desire consumed them both.
And her answering whimpers only served to spur him on.
Dragging his mouth from hers, Christopher moved to trace kisses along her jaw and down her throat, stopping to lick at her furiously beating pulse.
She gasped in response, and he nearly lost his damned mind at the sound.
He reached down to lift her clean off her feet, meaning to lie her down in the soft grass beneath them.
“Christopher.”
Her voice sounded frantically in his ear, and he knew that she wanted this as much as he.
Never had he felt this urgency. This all-consuming need.
And she did, too. She was right there with him.
He captured her lips again and felt her tremble in his arms –
Everything inside Christopher came to a screeching halt.
Redeeming A Royal (The Royals of Aldonia Book 3) Page 11