That should have been the moment Ash told Bailey about his growing feelings for her. If it had been any other situation and he another man, he would have. He released her hand, sliding his under the table, and pretended not to see the hurt on her face.
Bailey cleared her throat. “The worst fast food I’ve ever eaten was at this restaurant called Juan and Antonito’s. It was Mexican. It practically had a health department violation stamped on the front door. I was sick for three days afterward.”
“Are you ready to get out of here?” Ash asked.
Bailey nodded. “Yeah.”
They’d no sooner stood when one of Ash’s hired bodyguards rose from a table near the front door. “Your Highness. There are quite a few members of the press outside. We’ll need to move quickly.”
Ash took Bailey’s hand. “Stay close.”
She nodded, pressing herself against his side, almost making Ash forget everything. Then the guard opened the front door and chaos ensued. Cameras clicked, shutters rapid firing as Ash and Bailey ran outside.
The guard had been right. The press had tripled, but the throng also seemed to include onlookers and other random fans.
Bailey looped her arm through his, and together they ran toward the waiting back door of the limo. The door shut and she collapsed into the seat beside him, her breath heavy, and her eyes wide.
“Are you all right?” He took her hands in his. They were so close—hands clasped, shoulders touching. All he’d have to do was lean forward an inch. Then he could’ve kissed her and taken her sweet lips with his own.
She must have sensed it, because her lips parted, as though she were waiting for the same thing. Maybe if he could kiss her once, just get it out of his system, he’d be able to move on, to forget her. He’d be able to do his duty and save his family.
“Highness, we have a bit of a problem,” the bodyguard in the front seat announced.
Ash didn’t take his face from Bailey’s. “Yes?”
“We can’t get through the crowd. We’ll need to call the Florican police.” The guard whipped out a cell phone.
Bodies pressed in around the car. People clamored to see through the one-way glass. He’d never experienced anything quite like it before. What had changed? His relationship with Bailey, certainly. Ash hadn’t anticipated the public’s curiosity.
Bailey sat up straighter and stared across the street. “What about the cemetery? Can you get us in there?” She pointed across the street to the Florican National Cemetery. Hedgerows blocked the inside from view, as did the high, stone walls. “They won’t bother us in there, will they?”
Ash could have kissed her. “You’re right. The law forbids them to follow us into places of worship or onto holy ground. Get us as close to the cemetery as possible.”
The guard pointed and the driver inched the car around and across the street until he’d pulled up alongside the entrance. Once the gates were in plain sight, the guard exited the front seat and then swung open the back door. He shielded Ash and Bailey as they sprinted from the limo.
Ash entwined his fingers with Bailey’s, but soon, she was the one leading him, through the gates of the cemetery, past headstones, and down a grassy embankment. They’d almost reached the boundary of the graveyard. It wasn’t until they were feet from a fence that overlooked the rocky sea cliffs when she jerked to a stop and froze.
“What is it? What’s wrong?” But he didn’t have to work hard to find out.
At Bailey’s feet lay a headstone engraved with a very familiar name.
PARKER.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Bailey
Stabbing, searing pain lanced Bailey’s chest. Minutes before, she’d been in the limo with Ash, hoping, wishing, that he would kiss her.
So much had changed in a short space of time. She’d gone from a near-kiss to staring at her father’s headstone. When she’d agreed to the trip home to Florico, the graveyard was the one place she’d promised herself she wouldn’t go. Yet, when they’d found themselves trapped, Bailey realized the truth. She should have come home months ago.
Tears choked her, the blockage kept her from swallowing, from breathing, from moving on.
Being there, at Dad’s grave, made it real. It was almost like Dad’s death had just happened. It had balled up like a tight fist at the base of her throat. She couldn’t believe she’d been such a coward. She’d hidden; she’d pretended, choosing to live in self-imposed exile.
Dad didn’t deserve that. Neither did she.
“Do you want to know the worst thing I’ve ever done?” she asked, her voice shaky as she sank to her knees on the grass at the foot of the headstone. It had rained recently, and the denim had soaked through. She didn’t care.
Ash knelt beside her, his warm grip firm, but not demanding. He hadn’t spoken, but she sensed it was his way of saying they could leave at that very moment and it would be fine with him.
“I have to tell someone and you’re—” she broke off, hating what she’d been about to say. That he was the only someone she had. She didn’t want him to know that about her. She didn’t want him to see her as weak, or worse, as some pathetic person who’d hidden herself away from the world. But she had to reveal her cowardice. It was the only way out.
“Only tell me if you want,” he said.
She choked on a sob and let her confession tumble out. “My father died last year. It was a heart attack. Sudden.”
Ash frowned. “I’m so sorry. I had no idea.”
She smiled. “Of course you didn’t. I never told you. I never even told myself.”
“I don’t understand.” Ash traced slow circles on the back of her hand with his thumb as he spoke. Bailey tried not to think of the heat curling in her stomach as a result.
“I didn’t . . . come home for the funeral. I loved him so much. My dad was my best friend.” Bailey wrapped her arms around herself. “I just myself pretend he was alive. I even wrote him letters. I told him what was happening in my life. About working with you. When the letters got returned, I pretended he’d written back, but I never opened them. Sounds crazy, doesn’t it?” She met Ash’s eyes, expecting fear or disgust. All she found was a resigned understanding.
He shook his head. “It doesn’t sound crazy. It sounds lonely.”
His understanding was more than she deserved. “I became a sort of hermit. I didn’t leave my apartment; I didn’t have any reason to. I even had my groceries delivered. Coming here . . . it’s the first time I’ve really been outside in months, aside from letting my dog out. I’ve let myself become a coward.”
A sob escaped her chest. Ash wrapped his arms around her, guiding her back against him. “That’s the one thing you can’t abide by, isn’t it? Cowardice.”
Bailey shook her head. “I just miss him so much. I can’t stand it. I couldn’t say goodbye. I’m a wimp.”
He pressed his lips against her hair, directing a wave of heat through her. “If you were, then you never would have told me the truth.
“What would make you a coward now, is if you decided to return to your life as it was before without trying. I don’t think you want to, though.”
How could he have known? How could he possibly understand her pain? But he did. Because he’d lost his parents. “I am. I just don’t know how.” She glanced up and into his eyes.
“Start by grieving your father. Let it go, Bailey. Feel whatever you need to feel.” Ash pulled her into his arms and the emotion which had been slowly strangling her since her Dad died, shoved itself out of her throat, bringing deep, wracking sobs which shook her body. She couldn’t think. She could only cry. A waterfall of tears, which, until now, had remained unshed, trailed her face ruining her make-up, dampening Ash’s shirt.
He rubbed her back, pulling her closer. “I won’t let you go. You’re safe.”
Bailey believed him. More than she’d ever believed anyone. The warm, gentle pressure of his hand soothed her, calmed her even as her own emotions threatened
to tear her in two. Eventually, her tears dried up and the intensity lessened. Until finally, she sagged against him and closed her eyes.
As Bailey drifted off to sleep, she knew two things she hadn’t before arriving at the cemetery. The first was that her Dad was dead and it was time to let go. The second was that she was in love with the crown prince of Florico.
No matter what happened from then on, her life would never be the same again.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Asher
Ash awoke to the sensation that he’d been jabbed in the back with dozens of rough, sharp points. His eyes fluttered open, and he realized where he’d been napping. In the cemetery, with Bailey. Judging from the sun’s position in the sky, it was late afternoon. Bailey lay against his chest, nestled into the crook of his shoulder.
Someone cleared his throat, and Ash spotted a member of the Florican guard several feet away. “Your Highness. The crowd has cleared. If you’re ready to return to the palace, we should not have a problem.”
Asher nodded. “Give us a minute.”
The guard departed, and Ash turned to Bailey, ready to wake her. But then he took in the beautiful, sleeping woman curled beside him. Her long lashes rested against her high cheekbones. She’d pressed her perfect ass against him as she’d slept. It took all his restraint not to touch her—to feel her tantalizing shape through her clothes.
He’d never spent so much time staring at a woman as he had Bailey. He wasn’t exactly sure why, unless it was to memorize her. He’d need to remember . . . once he’d said goodbye.
“Bailey.” He nudged her shoulder, but she snuggled in deeper. She laid her small palm low on his stomach. Lord, she was a little too close to home. He could feel the heat from her hand through his thin cotton shirt. It was distracting to say the least. “Bailey, wake up.” He shook her shoulder more firmly.
She blinked. And opened her eyes, incrementally, as though taking her time would let her sleep longer. Was that the way she woke up every morning? Ash wanted to know.
He wanted to know what she looked like when she went to bed. How rumpled her hair was when she awoke. The exact facial expressions he might engender in her when he convinced her to stay in bed longer. Her response if he—
“Ash. Oh God, did I just fall asleep?” Bailey’s hands flew to her cheeks as she scooted to an upright position. “I’m so sorry.”
“There’s no need to apologize. I did, as well. Though I am certain I’ll have an imprint from this tree on my back for the rest of my life.”
He climbed to his feet and helped Bailey do the same. Once she’d brushed herself off, Ash cupped her cheek, running his thumb along her cheekbone. “How are you?”
Bailey reached up and touched his hand, holding it there. “I’m better. Thanks to you. I’m sorry for dumping all of this on you.” After a moment, he dropped his hand, but she kept her fingers wound in his.
“Don’t be. We’re friends, aren’t we? We’ve been through so much together.”
She flashed an easy smile. “Thanks for listening.” She glanced up into his face and he would have sworn an entire universe of possibilities lit up her eyes. Life with Bailey would be different. Relaxed. He could be himself with her. Always.
He couldn’t say the same about Lady Kovačič.
But Bailey wasn’t an heiress and his duty was to his family’s legacy. Royals weren’t the ones who got happy endings. Fairytales were almost always written from the commoner’s point of view.
With all of his resolve, he released her, tearing his eyes from the hurt expression on her face.
Ash led Bailey toward the car, where they easily slipped inside. As the driver turned the key in the ignition, Ash glanced at the clock. At least four hours had passed. So that was all he’d have to do if he wanted to avoid the press—wait them out for several hours. He’d have to remember that.
Bailey leaned into him as the limo cruised through the Florican streets unencumbered. “Thank you. Thank you for bringing me here. For today.”
“Would you mind if we made one more stop today? It won’t be a long one.”
“Sure.” He looped his arm around her shoulders, not caring that he was holding her close for the second time that afternoon. He was comforting her. Surely, it would be rude to sit on opposite sides of the limo after the conversation they’d just had.
The drive was brief, only fifteen minutes or so. Once they’d returned to the palace, Ash led Bailey out one of the side doors. Together, they moved into the gardens. Bailey paused at the queen’s green phallic symbol.
“An unfortunate butterfly,” Ash said. “Best to put it out of your mind.”
She smiled but didn’t comment. “As you wish, Your Highness.”
Ash grinned, and led her to a small gate at the far end of the garden, which he unlatched, letting it swing open. He held out his hand. “This.”
Together, they traveled a path, which only went a few feet beyond the fence. Ash stopped.
“Now, look.”
Bailey gasped. The sea lay spread out before them. Pale, azure water met fine, white sand. They could see for miles in every direction. “This is breathtaking.”
“I could say the same.” Ash kept his voice soft, but her eyes flashed to his. She’d definitely heard him. What was he doing? His relationship with Bailey was supposed to be all for show. He wasn’t supposed to get involved.
He closed his eyes for a moment. When he reopened them, he shook his head, trying to regain his control. Or what was left of it, anyway. “Have a seat.”
Bailey turned and discovered a hand-carved bench resting against a wall of rock. It’d been formed from a series of logs, cut at the right height for a wayward wanderer searching for the perfect view. She touched her fingers to the small plaque above it.
It read: For Vanessa, who will always be my woman, before my queen. Yours, Arthur
Her hand went to her chest. “Your grandfather did this?”
Ash nodded. “Yes.”
“This is so beautiful. My heart hurts.” She faced Ash, the backdrop of the breathtaking sea behind her.
The rest of the words he’d planned disappeared before they could cross his lips. It was a toss-up, really—whether Bailey or the view held more beauty.
No, Bailey was the clear winner.
Yet, there was something he needed to say. Bailey had bared her soul to him, and though she hadn’t asked for it, this desperate need to do the same filled him. “You know my reputation as a playboy of sorts.”
Bailey nodded. She took a seat.
“That image of myself, the one I put out there. It’s because of this.” He patted the weathered bench, joining her.
“I don’t understand.”
Ash took her hand in his. “It’s what this bench represents. My grandparents’ love. If you walk farther, you’ll find one my father made for my mother.” He sat in silence. “The love they had was everywhere. It filled every aspect of my life. As a child, it made me feel safe. As an adult, well, it’s a lot to live up to.”
She leaned back, settling in, and waited for more.
“All of my life, I’ve been afraid of marrying a woman I could never have that kind of a connection with. Or worse, having a marriage in name only. Grandmother abolished the marriage law five years ago, so I wouldn’t end up in an arranged marriage. But it would have almost been better. That way, my choice would be out of my hands, at least.”
“Now the choice has to be yours alone. You don’t want to make the wrong one.”
Ash nodded. “It was easier to spend time with experienced, consenting women who wouldn’t expect anything of me. But it was just sex mixed with fond affection. I’ve never loved them.”
“And you wonder if you’re even capable of love.” Bailey squeezed his hand, sending more heat through him, more want than he’d ever imagined possible.
“Yes.” Ash gripped her hands in his. Of course she would understand. “That’s the worst thing I’ve ever done, and I suppose I kee
p repeating it. Again and again.”
“I don’t think it sounds bad.” She stared into his eyes and held them. He couldn’t have looked away, even for a heartbeat’s worth of time. “I think it sounds lonely.”
Lonely. She couldn’t have been more wrong. He wasn’t lonely. He had people around him all the time. But none of them knew him the way Bailey did.
“Of course, if you bring all of these women up here, you probably aren’t lonely often. This is beautiful, Asher. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen anything like it before.” She stared out toward the sea, running her hand along the smooth arm of the bench as she did so.
“I’ve never brought anyone else here.” He blurted it out before he could stop himself. Ash didn’t care. He wanted Bailey to know she was the only woman he’d ever shared this place with. “I suppose I was waiting for the right person to share it with.”
“You think I’m that person?” Her eyes lit.
He was misleading her, he knew. If things had been any different, then he would’ve leaned in and kissed Bailey. But they weren’t. The truth was, he needed an heiress. It was his only chance to save his family’s name.
But an heiress wasn’t what he wanted.
What he wanted was Ms. Bailey Parker.
Before Ash could stop himself, he leaned forward, brushing his lips against hers. The act was gentle, smooth, and so, so right. He didn’t allow himself more contact, in case Bailey didn’t want him.
But she reached up, gripped his shoulders, and guided him closer. He slid his arms around her, threading his fingers through her hair, cupping the base of her head in his hand. She fit in his arms as though she’d been made for him. He kissed her again and she parted her lips, giving him access to explore, and explore he did. At a painstakingly slow pace, Ash swept his tongue inside Bailey’s mouth, tasting, exploring. A small sigh eased from her throat, as their lips met again and again in introduction.
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