She ducked her head so that her face wouldn’t be visible on the videos. Her hair swung forward to hide her. She said, “Yes. I’ll marry you.”
Cheers howled all around her.
“Now get up,” she told Dieter. “Get up right now.”
He waved over his shoulder at the applauding passengers and sat down beside her.
She whispered to him, “Why would you do such a thing?”
“I meant it,” he said, “Every word of it. Marry me.”
She cuddled close to him so that anyone looking at their body language wouldn’t suspect that she was about to crumble into a ball and sob her heart out. “You can’t do that. You don’t get a do-over after walking out on me and marrying someone else.”
“I just thought—”
“Thought what? That if you evened up the marriage proposal score that this would go away? I knowDrachenfutterwhen I see it,” a lovely German word that meansa gift for the dragon,a present given to one’s lover to make amends for doing something particularly stupid, which meant that she was the damn dragon. “I’ve been dying about this foryears—”
She really had, she realized. As soon as she’d heard from Wulfram that Dieter had gotten married, she’d gone numb. She’d died.
“—But I didn’t want to be hurt like that ever again. When Pierre proposed with his very specific plan for marriage, I jumped at it. He wantedme,even though he just wanted my title and to not lose his throne for marrying someone unsuitable. But I thought he wanted me.”
“You knew that when you married him? Oh, Flicka. You said he loved you.”
“I thought he did, as much as he could, anyway. But he didn’t. He loved Abigai Caillemotte, but she isn’t titled. He’s ashamed of her.”
“Everyone’s marrying commoners these days,” Dieter said. “William did. Wulfram did. Pierre could have.”
“Monaco has always had a Napoleon complex. They have to be more staunchly proper and uphold all the silly rules even when the real monarchies don’t because Monaco is a tiny,tinyprincipality and even not a real country.”
“Don’t let Pierre hear you say that.”
“I will tell him right to his damn face.”
“Maybe we could invite him to our wedding, and you can tell him there. And then I’ll punch his face in, just for laughs.”
“That’s not funny.”
“Punching him in the face would certainly make me laugh.”
“Listen to me.There won’t be a wedding. I won’t marry you.”
“You said you would.”
“I can’t even imagine it. I don’t want to. It hurts too much.”
He captured her chin and lifted her face to his. “I will marry you.”
“I’m not even divorced yet.”
“Six weeks,” he said. “Six weeks in Las Vegas, and you’ll be divorced, that quickly.”
Flicka doubted it would be that easy. “I told you I wouldn’t marry you.”
He kissed her softly, his lips barely caressing hers.
Flicka slipped her arms around his shoulders because she wanted to feel his strength and his warmth.
Dieter lifted his mouth from hers. “I proposed, and you said yes. You have to marry me.”
“You can’t make me,” she muttered.
He lifted the armrest between them and tucked Flicka next to his side. “I’m holding you to it. Now, how do you work these seatback screens? I’m tired of watching the little plane fly over the ocean. Maybe the BBC Sports show is on.”
