“Kind of like a big life metaphor right here in Dalholm.” Gus sat on the edge of God’s palm, dangled his feet over the side, and patted the flat rock next to him.
Using his shoulder as an anchor, Daffy sat, dropping her legs next to his. Two hundred feet above the crashing waves below, there was nothing between them and the end of the world but a breathtaking view of a rolling blue-green sea and the coming clouds.
Daffy inhaled the pure air. “Now that I’m here, I’m not sure I want to leave.”
“It does sort of put your troubles behind you, doesn’t it?”
They sat in silence. Comfortable. Content. And then—
“So, Prince Gus, what is your scary thing? I think you should talk to Coral and—”
With a hesitant touch to her face, he turned her to him and kissed her, exchanging the first awkward touch with one more determined. One more certain.
His hand slipped around her waist as he pulled her to him. She gripped the sleeve of his jacket and kissed him back, sharing her affection, welcoming his passion.
When he at last raised his head, her freed lips fired the first traitorous question that came to mind. “What was that?”
“What? No good?”
“Um…very good.” Daffy touched her cold hand to her warm, tingling lips.
“Kissing you was my scary thing.” He pulled his arm away and brushed her hair from her eyes. “I’ve wanted to kiss you since Florida. When I hit you with the Frisbee.” He lifted her up and moved back from the edge to sit on a small grassy rise. “I don’t want to accidentally push us off if I kiss you again.”
“If?” She laughed. “Blinky said something to me as I left Thomas’s flat.” Dare she confess their conversation? “That I was in love with you. There, that’s mytrulyscary thing.”
His gaze returned to the channel. “The next part is the scariest. What do we do? I don’t want to hurt you, and I don’t want to be hurt again. Or humiliated.”
“If you think I’d hurt and humiliate you, then why did you kiss me?”
“Because I love you.” His lips found hers again as he worked his hand through her hair. “I—I can’t believe I’m saying it, but I do. Love you.”
Daffy held his coat collar in her fists, his warmth melting the ice in the air around her. “I love you, HRH Prince Gus of the House of Blue. I will not hurt you. I won’t run or hide or confess I love someone else.”
“No, I don’t believe you would.” He kissed her once, then twice, caressing her with his affection. “But to be fair, are you ready for a life with me? Being analyzed and criticized? Do you know theNews Leaderis on record as saying whenever they need to increase sales, they post a ludicrous story about the Family, especially me, and boom! Back in the black.”
“Forget being analyzed and criticized. Gus, are you inviting me into your world?”
“I’m saying I want to be with you. And if you want to be with me, you need to know everything that comes with that choice. I’m not a simple bloke who works at a financial firm, or argues cases in court, or sacks your groceries.” He brushed his hand along her cheek. “I’ve been debating with myself the whole way here. Should I? Am I ready? Then I look at you and I know, if I don’t wake up and step up, I’ll lose you. Here you are, miraculously free just when I think I might be ready. What are the chances?”
“Feels rather divine.”
“It does but you’re…not blushing.” He traced his finger along her jawline and down her neck. “Is that a bad sign?”
“Keep touching me like you are and I’ll blush like you’ve never seen me blush.” She cradled against his chest and wrapped her fingers around his. “I think I’ve loved you for a long time, Gus. I know being a royal comes with its distinct trials, as well as privileges. But I’m all in, Gus. If you want me.”
His laugh was so rich and warm. “You hear that world? She loves me!”
“Hear that world?” she hollered into the wind. “Heloves me.”
Their voices bounced against the rocks, and “loves me” echoed around the Hand of God, through Daff and straight to her bones.
“So now what?” she said when he’d kissed her again. And again. His lips were soft and inviting, but firm, like he knew what he was doing. “Do you think the queen—”
“Wants me happy. Whatever happened eighteen years ago needs to be let go. Buried.”
“Should I talk to her?” And should she tell him the rest of the story? Oh, this was a pickle she never thought she’d face.
“We can talk to her together.”
