“You want to know why I came here? Because I realized I was still married and I don’t know, call me crazy, I wondered if maybe there was still something between us. That maybe God—”
“God? What does he have to do with our marriage? I have little business with the Lord.”
“But he probably has business with you. You’re the freaking Prince of Brighton. Or you’re supposed to be. Have you had your coronation yet? No! I wish you’d get your head out of your rugby kit long enough to realize how much more there is for you to do on this earth.” She pulled on the tiara again, but it still remained in place. “What is with this thing?”
“How did this turn into a lecture on my life? Playing rugby is my mission on earth.” This was way out of her jurisdiction. “Have you been talking to my brother?”
“No, but I read, observe. That’s why I know there are secrets beneath your bone and muscle.” She stepped into the street, stumbling after another speeding cab, nearly getting run over.
“Corina.”
“Stephen.”
“For Pete’s sake.” He lowered his shoulder and, with ease, wrapped her in his arms and cradled her against him.
“Stephen, what are you doing?” She pushed her hand against his hard chest, kicking her legs.
“I’m taking you to a premier.” He peered at her, their faces so close . . . He could steal a kiss if he wanted. And oh, he wanted.
“You’re a brute.” Her accusation melted into a laugh.
Thomas jumped out of the back. “Sir, what are you doing?”
“Step aside, mate. Wild lass coming through.”
Bending carefully, Stephen settled Corina into the back of the limo and slipped in next to her.
“You’re crazy,” she said, moving to the center of the seat, smoothing her skirt and patting the side of her hair. “Did the tiara stay in place?” She snatched a small compact from her bag and inspected her hair. “Though I suppose you’d like for it to fall off.”
“No, I wouldn’t.” Stephen collected himself, smoothing his tie and straightening his jacket. He tapped the driver’s window. “Crack on.” With a peek at Corina, he felt a smile stretching across his heart. “You said it was romantic the last time I picked you up.”
She snapped the compact shut. “Good, the tiara is still in place. Not even a rambunctious prince can remove my crown.”
Thomas spit a laugh. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you two were an old married couple.”
“Never you mind, chap.” Stephen shot him a warning glance. “Corina, did you hear me?”
“I heard you.” She reached to tap Thomas on his knee. “You look nice.”
“Thank you, Corina. As do you.”
“Even with the tiara?”
“Yes, it’s very . . . you. Beautiful.”
“At least one man in this car thinks so.” Corina flipped her hand at Stephen. “See how to benice?”
“Fine, I apologize if I was not nice. But showing up at a premier with a prince wearing a tiara is not a good idea. Royal protocol and all that.”
The conversation idled as the limo moved through the downtown traffic toward the theatre district. But Stephen felt himself swirling down, aching to sweep Corina into his arms again.
Seeing her tonight, regal and elegant in her gown, wearing the tiara as if she’d been born to do so, only awakened the reality that everything he’d whispered to his heart about the end of their marriage was nothing but his own deluding fears.
SEVENTEEN
Ravenous. The paparazzi hounds hovered around the limousine as the driver pulled up to the Royal Theatre’s gold carpet.
Corina leaned to see through the window as red-vested attendants carved their way toward them. She clutched her bag to her adrenaline-pulsing heart.
