by Douglas, Michelle; Gordon, Lucy; Pembroke, Sophie; Hardy, Kate
It was still very early in the morning, and the summer sunlight was just seeping around the edges of the curtains. She shifted slightly so she could lie on her side and watch him sleeping.
In repose, Lorenzo was truly beautiful. He had a perfect bone structure and long, long lashes that made her itch to sketch him. And the way his mouth turned up at the corners naturally made it look as if he was smiling in his sleep. Or maybe he was smiling in his sleep. Dreaming of her, perhaps, and the way they’d made love in the ancient four-poster bed?
She smiled. Lorenzo had proved himself a spectacular lover, too. He’d paid attention to detail, noticed where she liked being touched and how she liked being kissed. The first time they’d made love should’ve been awkward and ever so slightly embarrassing, but it hadn’t been that way. It had felt so natural, so right: unexpectedly and wonderfully perfect.
She couldn’t resist leaning over and kissing his mouth, very lightly.
His eyes opened. She saw the second that he focused and realised where he was. And then he smiled. The kind of smile that could melt the most frozen heart.
‘Good morning, Indi,’ he said softly.
Her heart did a backflip. ‘Good morning, Lorenzo.’
He moved slightly closer. ‘Was that my imagination, or did you just kiss me awake?’
She wrinkled her nose. ‘Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you. But you looked like Sleeping Beauty, and I’m afraid it was a bit too much to resist.’
He coughed. ‘I hate to tell you this, Indi, but Sleeping Beauty was a girl. And I’m not a girl.’
No. He was all man. And the thought of how they’d made love last night, how his body had felt inside hers, sent a warm glow through her. ‘Hey, there’s no reason why a man can’t be beautiful.’ She spread her hands. ‘I mean, “Sleeping Handsome” doesn’t sound right, does it?’
‘Is that how you see me?’ he asked.
‘Kind of yes and kind of no.’ She thought about it. ‘I like the idea of playing around with fairy tales, seeing what happens if you change an element.’
He looked at her and sighed. ‘I have a nasty feeling I know where this is going. Please tell me you’re not planning to do a series of stained-glass windows with all the fairy tale roles reversed—and with me as the model.’
‘If things were different,’ she said, ‘I’d talk you into that, because it’s a brilliant idea. But it’s not going to happen,’ she reassured him, stroking his hair back from his forehead. ‘That’s why I said yes, that’s kind of how I see you—because you’re from a different world. And being here with me is almost like a temporary enchantment. Except in this case it doesn’t involve spinning wheels and pricking your finger, you’re not going to sleep for a hundred years—oh, and a kiss isn’t supposed to break the spell,’ she added hastily.
‘I’m glad to hear it.’ He shifted so that he could pull her back into his arms. ‘Well, now you’ve woken the sleeping prince, I think there’s only one thing to do.’
And he kissed her until they were both dizzy.
‘Now that’s a way to start a morning,’ she said with a smile.
He smiled back. ‘My thoughts exactly. But I’d better go back to my own room before everyone else in the house wakes up. Do you always wake at the crack of dawn, Indi?’
‘Not always, but I’m not actually that used to sharing my sleeping space,’ she admitted.
He stroked her face. ‘Good. Just for the record, neither am I.’
‘Good.’ She kissed him. ‘Now disappear before you bump into Gus’s mum, still wearing last night’s clothes, and embarrass everyone.’
‘Yes, ma’am,’ he teased, and climbed out of bed. He gave her a sidelong glance. ‘Shouldn’t you be looking away while I get dressed?’
‘My degree’s in art. I’ve taken enough life drawing classes that I’m very comfortable with people being naked in front of me.’ She raised an eyebrow. ‘Has anyone told you that your posterior view is nicer than that of Michelangelo’s David?’
To her delight, he actually blushed. ‘No. But thank you for the compliment.’ He finished dressing—though he left his shirt collar open and didn’t bother with the bow tie—then came to sit beside her on the bed. ‘When will you be free today?’
‘After the house and garden are closed, late this afternoon.’ Much as she wanted to spend time with him, enjoy every precious second, she had commitments and it wouldn’t be fair to back out. Though she knew he understood; he was busy, too, and they’d agreed to see each other in the spaces between each other’s work.
‘Maybe we could take a walk in the grounds when you’re free.’
‘I’d like that,’ she said. ‘Maybe I could text you when my workroom’s clear, and you can text me back to let me know where and when to meet you.’
‘Good idea.’ He fished his mobile phone from his pocket. ‘What’s your number?’
She told him. A couple of moments later, her mobile beeped. She opened the text. ‘A smile and a kiss. Works for me,’ she said, smiling and kissing him. ‘See you later, Lorenzo.’
She didn’t see him at breakfast, because she ate a hasty bowl of granola, yoghurt and fruit in the kitchen rather than the breakfast room and she took her coffee through to her workroom. Lorenzo didn’t come to see her while she was working on the glass in the morning; no doubt he had king-in-waiting stuff to do, she thought. And then the house opened for visitors, and she was busy talking to people and showing them what she was doing.
Once the last visitor had left, she sent a quick text to Lorenzo, letting him know that she was free.
See you in the rose garden in half an hour, was his reply.
When she walked into the rose garden, he was sitting on one of the wrought iron benches beneath a bower of roses. Again, she thought of the Sleeping Beauty story and how she’d love to paint Lorenzo in a stained-glass window. And she smiled when she realised that Toto, the elderly golden Labrador, was sitting patiently next to him, his chin on Lorenzo’s knee.
‘I hope you don’t mind us having a companion. Toto rather insisted on coming along,’ Lorenzo said wryly.
She laughed and made a fuss of the dog. ‘No, it’s nice having a dog around. Especially in a garden as gorgeous as this one.’
‘Did you have a good day?’ he asked.
She nodded. ‘I made quite a lot of progress on the mermaid and had some interesting chats with the visitors. You?’
‘I worked through some files for my grandfather.’
‘And you need some downtime?’ she guessed.
‘Just a little,’ he admitted.
She heeled off her shoes, and sighed in bliss as her feet sank into the soft lawn. ‘Ah, that’s better. The only thing I don’t like about my job is that you need to wear shoes all the time.’
‘In case of splinters?’ he asked.
She nodded. ‘And this is bliss. The softest grass in the world.’
* * *
The way she’d just pushed off her shoes and was walking barefoot on the lawn... Lorenzo envied the way that Indigo could just act on impulse. It was something he never did; he was always aware of the consequences of his actions. Which was a good thing, but it also meant that he missed out on the joy that Indigo seemed to find so easily in things. ‘Don’t you worry about getting a thorn in your feet?’
‘Hardly. Roses drop petals rather than thorns,’ she pointed out.
‘Even so. Sometimes they drop branches.’
‘Which I can see and avoid.’ She laughed. ‘Though I admit I wouldn’t walk barefoot by the lake. The ducks are a bit indiscriminate about where they have a toilet break and it’s annoying having to watch where you put your feet instead of being able to watch the water and the sky.’ She looked at him. ‘Why don’t you take your shoes off?’
‘What, now?’
‘Yes, now. Feel the grass under your feet. It’s cool and springy and lovely.’
When was the last time he’d walked barefoot on the grass? Probably not since he was a small child. But, not wanting to appear a total stick-in-the-mud, he complied. He tucked his socks into his shoes and let his shoes dangle from one hand, just as she was doing.
‘You’re right,’ he said, when he’d taken a couple of steps on the cool, soft grass. ‘It’s wonderful.’
‘When was the last time you walked barefoot on a beach?’ she asked.
He shrugged. ‘I really can’t remember.’
‘Is there some rule at prince school that you should always be fully, impeccably dressed unless you’re in the shower?’
He knew she was teasing him, but at the same time she had a point. As a prince, he always had to look the part. Not that he was going to let himself dwell on that side of things. ‘Or swimming,’ he said lightly. ‘Unless of course you’re dressed in Regency costume and want to turn some heads. Then you’re allowed to be partially undressed. Especially in a lake,’ he added, knowing that it would amuse her.
She laughed, and he loved the way she tipped her head back, her face up towards the sunlight and her face full of smiles. ‘You half promised me that before, Lorenzo. I am so holding you to that Mr Darcy moment.’
‘Talking about holding...’ He brushed his free hand against hers.
‘Would that be a hint, Your Royal Highness?’ she teased.
He rolled his eyes. ‘Are you saying that I have to give you an official royal order?’
‘No. I probably wouldn’t obey an order. But I can take a hint.’ She smiled again and twined her fingers through his.
Walking through the rose garden with her, hand in hand, with the dog pattering along beside them, felt like being in another world. An enchanted bubble. Maybe she was right when she said he reminded her of Sleeping Beauty, Lorenzo thought, because this was like a dream. It wasn’t real. They couldn’t have a future. He needed to find a future queen for Melvante, someone his grandfather and his political advisers would approve of—and they definitely wouldn’t approve of Indigo, despite her charm and her work ethic. And he already knew that Indigo hated his world; she’d escaped it before and wouldn’t want to go back.
So he was going to enjoy every second of their fling together and take it for what it was: a beautiful interlude, a few moments out of time.
‘So why do you have a thing about roses?’ he asked.
‘They’re beautiful, they smell nice, and they look stunning in a stained-glass window. They’re probably the perfect flower,’ she said.
He smiled. ‘My grandfather would agree with you. He has a rose garden.’
‘One he tends himself?’
‘When he gets the chance, yes. I’ll know exactly where to find him when he’s retired.’ Lorenzo was surprised by her perception. She’d clearly worked out that what music did for him, roses did for his grandfather. ‘So do roses figure much in stained glass?’
‘Quite a bit,’ she said. ‘I’m trying to talk Syb into letting me do a window of roses for the library. Well, I know technically Gus should make the final decision, but he wants it done as a birthday present for his mum and he says it’s her choice.’ She looked wistful. ‘I’d love to make a window full of roses. I’d have one myself if I had the right house.’
‘And your house isn’t right?’
‘It’s a modern bijou flat. Rented.’ She gave a half-shrug. ‘I’m not there very much, so it doesn’t make sense to have a large place. I’m either at my studio, or working on location somewhere.’
‘I guess,’ he said. But still he wondered, if what Indigo really wanted was to have roots? She’d grown up with her grandparents; deep down, did she want a space of her own?
‘So what about you? I assume as the prince you have to live in the castle?’
‘I have an apartment in the castle,’ he said. ‘I can be independent if I choose and cook my own meals.’
She smiled at him. ‘As if a prince is going to cook for himself. I bet you have a team of chefs who pamper you to within a millimetre of your life.’
That was a little too close to home. When was the last time he’d cooked for himself? Normally, he was so busy that it was easier to eat something prepared by the castle chefs when he was in Melvante, and to get takeout if he was in London. ‘I make an excellent chilli, I’ll have you know,’ he protested. ‘I learned to cook when I was a student—and, actually, I like cooking.’ He just didn’t do it that often, any more.
She raised her eyebrows at him. ‘Is that a cue for a challenge, Your Royal Highness?’
‘Maybe.’ He knew he’d enjoy cooking for her; he could imagine her sitting at his kitchen table in bare feet, chatting and maybe sketching as he cooked. Then he shook himself. Such domestic scenes weren’t going to happen, however much he might like them to. She wasn’t going to be in his apartment at the castle and he was hardly ever going to get the time to cook or play the piano. He definitely wasn’t going to have much time to do ordinary things like this—walking hand in hand with a pretty girl in a rose garden.
He pushed the thought away.
As if she noticed that he’d gone quiet and brooding, and she wanted to change the subject to something that would be less painful for him, she asked, ‘So what’s your castle like?’
That was an easier topic to talk about. ‘It’s pretty much your standard picture-postcard European castle. White stone, lots of turrets with pointed tiled roofs, a drawbridge and a moat.’
‘That sounds nice. What about inside?’
‘Red carpets, oak panelling and suits of armour—and there’s a gallery with pictures of every King of Melvante since Carlo the First.’
‘Will you be the first Lorenzo?’ she asked.
‘The third—my grandfather’s the second.’ His father had been supposed to be the third, with himself as the fourth. How different his life would’ve been, had his father lived.
‘So you were named after your grandfather?’
He nodded. ‘How about you?’
She looked rueful. ‘I think my mum just picked the most unusual name she could think of. And possibly something that would annoy my father, because it’s not very traditional.’
He thought of the traditional royal English names. ‘I can’t see you as an Elizabeth, a Mary or an Anne.’
‘Maybe if I’d been Elizabeth, I would’ve fitted in at school. I could’ve been Lizzie in the four musketeers of our dorm,’ she mused.
He shook his head. ‘Even if you’d had an L in your name, you wouldn’t have been part of those girls. Besides, if you’d really hated your name, you could’ve used your middle name. Or any other name you liked, for that matter.’
‘I hated my name when I was really small—in the days when I needed to feel I fitted in,’ she admitted, ‘and back then some of the girls weren’t very nice, saying it wasn’t a proper name for a girl because it was a colour.’
‘There are plenty of colours used as names. Ruby, Jade and Amber,’ he said, taking the first three that came into his head.
‘They’re gemstones,’ she corrected.
‘How about Violet and Rose?’
She shook her head. ‘Flowers.’
‘Scarlet,’ he said. ‘Even you can’t argue against that one.’
‘I guess not.’ She grinned. ‘Nowadays, I like my name.’
‘So,’ he said, ‘do I. It suits you and it suits your job.’
She gave him a half-bow. ‘Why, thank you, Your Royal Highness. Anyway, before I sidetracked you, you were telling me about your art collection. Lots of portraits of kings.’
‘My great-grandfather collected art. You’d like what he bought.’ He smiled at her. ‘And there’s a picture of my great-grea
t-grandmother you’d really love. She sat for Burne-Jones when she was a child.’
‘How fantastic. I hope you know I’m horribly envious.’
‘Maybe you can come and see it.’ The offer was out before he could stop it.
‘Maybe.’ She gave him the sweetest, sweetest smile.
And he knew without having to ask that it was a polite way of saying no.
She paused. ‘OK. You like the building and you like the art. But is it home?’
He thought about it. ‘Yes, it is. I have a lot of happy memories there.’ Despite his parents’ early deaths, the lies he’d been told to spare him from the truth and the shock of discovering that his father had had such a dark side.
‘I’m glad.’ Her fingers tightened briefly round his. ‘So what are you going to do when you’re king?’
‘Build on the work of my grandfather and make my people proud of me,’ he said promptly.
‘Good goals,’ she said approvingly. ‘How do you plan to get there?’
Lorenzo found himself talking seriously to Indigo about Melvante, about his people and what he wanted to do for his country. Whenever he stopped, thinking that maybe he was being too boring and ought to change the subject, she drew him out a little more, asking questions that showed she’d been paying attention to what he’d said and coming up with ideas that really made him think. And he was oddly pleased that she was showing as much of an interest in his job as he had in hers.
Toto flopped down with a grunt; she stopped, and made a fuss of the old dog. ‘I think we’ve tired him out, poor old boy.’ She glanced back at the house. ‘Look how far we’ve walked. I don’t think he’s going to find the return walk very easy.’
‘Then I’ll carry him back.’ Lorenzo put his shoes back on, preparing to pick up the dog. Toto was slightly overweight and a bit on the heavy side, but no way was Lorenzo going to abandon the old dog. He’d allowed Toto to join them for a walk and he hadn’t thought enough of the fact that the dog was elderly now and couldn’t walk as far as he’d been able to run alongside them when Lorenzo and Gus had been students and Toto had been a boisterous pup.