by Douglas, Michelle; Gordon, Lucy; Pembroke, Sophie; Hardy, Kate
‘Lorenzo, you ca–’
Her protest died as he picked up the dog.
‘You’re an elephant, Toto. You need to go on a doggy diet,’ he informed the dog, who licked his nose gratefully.
When he glanced at Indigo, he was surprised to see a film of tears in her eyes. ‘What’s wrong, Indi?’ he asked gently.
‘You’re going to be a king next month. And there you are, carrying an old dog home.’
‘Toto and I go back a long way. And you always look after your own, don’t you?’ He smiled at her. ‘Strictly speaking, he’s Gus’s dog. But I spent enough time here as a student to think of him as at least partly mine.’
‘Even so. A lot of people would...’ She swallowed hard. ‘Well, just leave him.’
‘Until he’d had a rest and could find his own way back to the house? No way.’ He grimaced. ‘I suppose we could’ve gone to find a wheelbarrow and a blanket for him, but I wouldn’t abandon him just because he’s old and tired and needs a break.’
‘I guess.’
She was quiet until they got to the house, where he gently set Toto back on to his feet.
‘You’re a good man, Lorenzo Torelli,’ she said softly. ‘And you’re going to make an awesome king.’
‘I hope so,’ he said, equally softly. ‘I really hope so.’
CHAPTER SIX
OVER THE NEXT WEEK, Lorenzo and Indigo spent as much time together as they could, while trying to be discreet and not flaunt their affair in everyone’s faces. Every sneaked moment was precious.
‘I’m still thinking about how you carried Toto back to the house. He weighs a ton, and you carried him for ages. Do you do weight training or something?’ Indigo asked when they were curled up on Lorenzo’s bed together.
‘Or something.’
‘Which is?’
‘Come and train with me in Gus’s fitness room, and I’ll show you,’ Lorenzo said.
The fitness room? It was one of the rooms at Edensfield Indigo had never set foot in; she’d never been remotely interested in running on a treadmill or picking up weights. ‘But I’m not sporty. I was always the last one picked for the team at lacrosse. And even when I moved to the local secondary school, I was never any good at netball, hockey or rounders. I used to get an A for effort and a D for achievement.’
‘The trick is to find something that you enjoy doing.’
‘I didn’t enjoy team sports. At all,’ she said with a grimace. ‘I don’t mind going for a long walk—I’m not a total couch potato—but I’m really not sporty.’ She stroked his pectorals and his abs. ‘You have muscles—a proper six-pack. So I guess that means you’re really sporty.’
‘Mens sana in corpore sano,’ he intoned.
‘A healthy mind in a healthy body,’ she translated. ‘More prince school stuff?’
He laughed. ‘You translated it, so I thought you’d know where it comes from.’
‘I only studied Latin to help me with the glass—sometimes you get wills or what have you to help you with the provenance of the glass. People donating particular windows to a church, that kind of thing.’
‘It’s Juvenal, from the Satires. And it doesn’t just apply to princes—it’s a list of what he thinks you should ask for in life. I can’t remember the whole lot, but it includes a stout heart, one that’s not scared of hard work and isn’t angry or lustful...’ He leaned over to kiss her. ‘Most of that works for me. Except the lustful bit. Because you’re incredibly desirable, Indigo Moran, and you make me feel lustful. Very lustful indeed.’
‘Why, thank you, Your Royal Highness. I would curtsey in gratitude—’
‘Would you, hell.’ He stole another kiss.
‘Let me finish. I would curtsey in gratitude for the compliment, but...’ She laughed. ‘Well, I’m comfortable and I don’t want to move.’
‘I don’t want you to move, either.’ He tightened his arms round her.
‘So what sport do you do?’ She thought for a moment. ‘You promised me a Mr Darcy moment, so I’m guessing swimming.’
‘I can swim, but it’s not my favourite.’
‘Rowing, then?’ She looked at him. ‘And I bet you got a Blue for it at Oxford.’
‘Well, yes,’ he admitted. ‘But rowing isn’t my favourite, either.’
She was intrigued. ‘Tennis? Cricket? Rugby?’
‘That’s three more guesses—and all wrong. Forfeits are due,’ he said, claiming a kiss for each.
‘OK. I give up. Tell me.’
‘Sparring.’
‘Boxing? No way.’ She shook her head. ‘They’d never let a king-to-be take a risk like that. Boxing’s dangerous. People get seriously hurt.’
‘Sparring just means padwork. So I get all the fun of boxing but without the risk of being hurt,’ he said. ‘Come and spar with me.’
‘I hate to point this out, Your Royal Highness, but you’re six inches taller than I am and I’m not exactly muscle-bound. I’m not going to be a very good sparring partner, am I?’
‘Sure you are. You’ll work with the gloves, not the pads.’
‘And I don’t have any workout gear.’
‘Borrow some from Lottie or Maisie. They’re both about your size, so one of them is bound to have something she can lend you.’
He clearly wasn’t going to let this go. ‘So when are we doing this training, then?’
‘Tomorrow morning. I was thinking the crack of dawn, given that you always seem to wake so early.’
It really wasn’t her idea of fun, but she’d indulge him. ‘OK.’
‘Good.’ He nuzzled the hollows of her collarbones. ‘So, where were we?’
* * *
Later that day, Indigo borrowed a T-shirt and a pair of shorts from Lottie—at least she had a pair of training shoes with her—and the next morning she followed Lorenzo to the fitness room.
He handed her a skipping rope. ‘This is a speed rope. It’s weighted so you can skip properly.’
‘Skipping?’ She looked at him, mystified. ‘I thought we were doing boxing stuff?’
‘We are. This is to warm up your muscles.’
She managed five skips before she tripped over the rope.
‘You need to jump over the rope with both feet together,’ he explained, ‘not one foot at a time as if you’re a rocking horse.’
She spread her hands. ‘That’s the way I learned to skip at school.’
‘This is boxing skipping. It’s much more effective at getting your heart rate up and warming up your muscles.’
‘What’s the difference?’
‘Watch.’ He skipped slowly, jumping over the rope; then he quickened his pace and it was as if he were floating on air. His feet didn’t even seem to touch the ground—he just seemed to be hovering mid-air.
‘Now that’s just showing off,’ she grumbled, wanting to hide just how impressed she was.
He laughed. ‘No, that’s practice. Do a little bit every day and eventually you’ll be able to do this.’
She didn’t think so. ‘Show me again.’
He coughed. ‘You’re trying to wriggle out of doing it.’
‘All right.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘I admit that was seriously impressive, Your Royal Highness, and I’d like to see you do it again.’
He laughed. ‘OK. I’ll skip for you again. But you have to earn it.’
‘That’s mean,’ she said.
‘It’s a carrot for a reward,’ he corrected. ‘If you want to see me skip, you have to do some skipping yourself, first. OK. Let’s work on your technique.’ He walked her over towards the mirror. ‘Now, watch yourself in the mirror.’
‘Haven’t we just proved that I can’t skip?’
‘We’ve just proved that you pani
cked and you need to change your technique,’ he corrected. ‘Remember what I said: jump over the rope with both feet together, and watch your feet in the mirror. Focus on lifting your feet.’
She tried again, and this time managed a few more skips before she tripped over the rope and had to stop.
‘See? You’re getting better. Now do it again. Watch your feet in the mirror and focus on the rhythm. Jump, jump, jump.’
She was hot and breathless by the time he finally let her stop. ‘This is vile. I’m all sweaty and disgusting.’
He just grinned and kissed the tip of her nose. ‘Tut, Ms Moran. Didn’t your teachers tell you that horses sweat, men perspire and ladies glow?’
She glowered at him. ‘I’m not a lady.’
He brushed his mouth against hers. ‘I beg to differ. You’re all woman, Indigo Moran, and right now you look as sexy as hell.’
And how was she supposed to concentrate, when he was looking at her like that?
He took the skipping rope from her and put the gloves on her. ‘Right—now you need to keep your knees soft, crouch slightly, and keep your hands up to guard your face.’
He talked her through doing a jab and a cross, then put his hands into two pads and held them up. ‘OK, now jab the pad to your right, then punch the one on your left. Remember to keep the hand you’re not using up by your face.’
She hit the pads as he directed. This was surreal: she was throwing punches at a king-to-be. Surely there had to be laws against this.
‘Harder,’ he said.
She shook her head. ‘But I might hurt you, Lorenzo.’
He smiled. ‘Indi, my sweet, you’re not going to hurt me. I wouldn’t get you to hold the pads for me because I’m used to this and I’d hit too hard for you, but this is new to you and I assure you that you won’t hurt me, however hard you hit. Now punch.’
By the time he called a halt, Indigo was breathing hard—and she was full of exhilaration. ‘That was amazing! I get why you love it.’
‘It’s a great cardio workout, plus it’s good for your arms and your abs. We’re going to stop now or you’ll be really sore tomorrow—actually, you might be sore anyway.’ He looked faintly guilty. ‘Sorry. I was enjoying that and I probably should’ve stopped earlier.’
‘It’s fine. I enjoyed it, too, even though I thought I’d hate it,’ she said. ‘And if anyone told me that a king-to-be would love putting on a pair of boxing gloves...’
He kissed her lightly. ‘I’m a man first, Indi. Remember that.’
And the heat in his gaze sent a shiver of pure lust all the way from the top of her spine down to her toes.
‘So now what?’ she asked, her voice ever so slightly shaky.
‘Now,’ he said, ‘we go and shower.’ He bent down so he could whisper in her ear, ‘And my vote is for us to do that together.’
‘No arguments from me,’ she said, feeling breathless.
He took off the gloves, and kissed the back of her hand. ‘You did really well.’
‘Because you’re a good teacher.’ She smiled at him.
‘So were you, when you talked me through cleaning the lead cames.’
‘It’s just a matter of being clear with your instructions, paying attention and adapting things to suit the person you’re teaching.’
‘It’s the same with this,’ he said, and kissed her again. ‘Right. Shower. Now.’
‘Yes, Your Royal Highness,’ she said, and kissed him back.
* * *
The following morning, Lorenzo walked in to Indigo’s workroom at half past eleven. ‘Time for lunch.’
‘Lunch?’ She glanced at her watch. ‘Isn’t it a bit early?’
‘No. It means we’ll be finished before the house and grounds open at one.’
‘Fair enough.’ She made sure that all her electrical equipment was switched off and all the liquids were safely in sealed containers, and followed him out of the house.
He was carrying a wicker basket, she noticed. They found a nice spot on the lawn outside the hothouses with a view of the lake. Lorenzo produced a rug for them to sit on and shook it out. Then he spread out a red and white checked tablecloth next to the rug and set out plates, cutlery and two champagne flutes.
So much more stylish than the plastic box of food and slightly scuffed plastic cups she was used to on a picnic.
‘So you talked someone in the kitchen into making all this for you?’ she asked.
‘Actually, no. I sent one of my team into the local town with a very specific list. And I put this together with my own fair hands.’
‘Resourceful and able to delegate. Good combination,’ she said. Though part of her wondered, did he ever yearn to be just an ordinary man who could nip out to the shops himself on the spur of the moment without it having to be planned like a military operation, complete with security detail, or having to send someone else out with his list?
The first box contained watercress, baby plum tomatoes, strips of yellow pepper and slices of mango. Then there was a box of sliced chicken, which he arranged on top. He added a pot of dressing. ‘Creamy chilli and coconut. I forgot to ask if you liked spicy food,’ he said.
‘I do.’
He brought out some rich seeded bread, which he carved into chunks, and his next foray into the picnic hamper was for a pot containing a red purée. She sniffed as he took the lid off. ‘It smells like strawberries.’
‘Pureéd,’ he said, and deftly put some in each champagne flute, which he topped off from a tiny bottle of champagne. ‘I thought we’d have just enough for one glass each, so it won’t make you drowsy or affect your work,’ he said.
She took a sip. ‘This is fabulous—what is it, a kind of strawberry Bellini?’
‘Yes. It’s called a Rossini.’
‘Where did you discover these?’
He laughed. ‘Elementary class at prince school?’
‘Yeah, yeah.’ She raised her glass in a toast to him. ‘To you. And thank you so much for spoiling me so delightfully.’
‘My pleasure.’ He leaned over and kissed her lightly.
Indigo enjoyed the food and the sunshine; and she especially enjoyed the company.
When they’d finished the salad, Lorenzo fed her more strawberries and miniature macaroons the colour of pistachio that tasted of coconut.
‘They’re perfect,’ she said blissfully.
He smiled. ‘We aim to please.’ He reached over and kissed the corner of her mouth. ‘Crumb,’ he said.
Two could play at that game, she thought, amused. She kissed the corner of his mouth. ‘Smear of sugar.’
He just laughed, and kissed her until she was dizzy.
Finally, he settled back with his head in her lap, looking pensive. She stroked his hair away from his forehead. ‘What are you thinking?’
‘Sometimes I wish I could keep a moment in time,’ he said.
‘You can. In here.’ She rested one hand over his heart. ‘And in here.’ She stroked his forehead.
‘I’d keep this moment,’ he said softly. ‘A perfect English summer afternoon.’
She knew exactly what he meant. Sunshine glinting on the lake, birds singing, the scent of roses, strawberries and champagne... There was really only one thing missing. She reached over to pick some daisies.
‘What are you doing?’ he asked.
‘Nothing. Just close your eyes and chill out,’ she said, and proceeded to make a daisy chain. When she’d finished, she made it into a crown. ‘For you,’ she said, and he opened his eyes to see the crown just before she draped it over his head.
He looked unutterably sad for a moment, as if she’d just reminded him that he’d be wearing a much heavier crown in a few short weeks.
‘Actually, I was thinking Oberon,’ s
he said softly.
‘“Ill met by moonlight, proud Titania”?’
‘I hope we’re not ill met.’ She smiled at him. ‘Trust you to know Shakespeare—or was your degree in English?’
‘Economics. But I had friends who read English.’
‘Did you not think about studying music?’ she asked. Surely that had been the subject of his heart?
He shrugged. ‘Economics was more practical.’
‘But if you’d had a choice?’
‘Then, yes, I probably would’ve studied music,’ he admitted.
‘I was lucky,’ she said softly. ‘I got to do what I love.’
‘I love what I’m going to do,’ he said, though his words sounded a little hollow to her, and just for a second he looked so very, very lonely.
The only way she could think of to make it better was to kiss him.
His arms tightened around her as if he really needed her. When he broke the kiss, he said, ‘I guess we’d better get back.’
She helped him clear away the picnic. ‘Thank you for spoiling me, Lorenzo. I really enjoyed this.’
‘My pleasure.’ He stroked her face. ‘I’m glad I could share it with you.’
And she was glad, too.
* * *
Later in the week, Indigo woke to find herself alone.
Lorenzo hadn’t said anything to her about needing an early start or going up to London.
Or had he changed his mind about their fling?
Hurt, she got up and slipped her dressing gown on. Then she saw a note next to the bed. A ‘Dear Jane’ letter? she wondered.
Well, they’d agreed it was a fling. The fact that she was falling for him—more fool her.
Steeling herself, she picked up the note and read it.
Meet you at the lake, by the boathouse.