He grimaced and refused to comment.
“I want you as king, as you know.”
He grimaced again, his jaw clenched in anger.
“I, obviously, do not want you to marry someone else. That said”—I ducked my head to catch his eyes, snare them with mine, and draw his head back up—“if you are forced into a political marriage—”
“Edwin, I swear that won’t happen.”
“If you are,” I maintained, “I will not leave you.”
For a moment, he seemed to seize in place. Surprise, mostly. Then he softened into a warm smile and kissed me lightly.
“Do you love me that much, then?” James murmured to me in a low, rich voice. “You’d openly be my paramour?”
“Even I’m surprised at myself, but yes.”
This made him happy, I could tell, but he still looked sad, too. “I wonder if your answer would have been the same in the first life.”
“You should have asked me.” I pointed a stern finger at him. “I probably would have. Let this be a lesson to you to use your words.”
He snorted and the sadness eased. “All that said, I won’t marry someone else. I’ll only marry you.”
“Even if it costs everything else?”
“Oh, I’m sure it won’t come down to that.”
I wasn’t so sure. Too many pressures, too many factors, pressed in on all sides. We might shortly find ourselves between a rock and a hard place. I took his face in both of my hands, wanting him to truly hear me.
“James, I swear to you, no matter what happens in the future, I will not leave your side. So do what you must, all right?”
He turned his head to kiss my palm. “I truly promise you it won’t come down to that. We’ll execute plan B. I have a stunning winery in Crele we can retreat to. Run my business from there, drink excellent wine. It’ll be paradise.”
He spoke of the most beautiful, tourist-heavy country in the world; of course it would be paradise. “I reiterate my promise. I will move with you, if it comes to that.”
“Aww, you do love me. Enough to move for me.”
“You know I hate moving?”
“You detest it. It’s the one thing you’d commit murder to avoid.”
“Then take it as a declaration of my devotion to you. Yes, James, I will move for you. But let’s please avoid that, hmm?”
“I’ll do my best.” With a sigh, he looked around the training yard and at the knights who had been hiding in the wings, not daring to use the yard while James was clearly in a mood. “I’d best clean up and go back to work now that the danger is over. I’m interfering with their training.”
He replaced his sword, then collected his shirt and coat, which I took from him. He was dripping sweat; no reason to get them sweat-stained. I offered a hand, and he grinned as he took it.
“To think you were so shy at first about holding hands with me in public,” he teased as we exited the training yard.
“This is a preventative measure,” I informed him loftily.
“Oh?”
“Excuse you? You’re walking around likethat”—I pointed to his still bare chest, glistening with sweat and clearly emphasizing every muscle—“and not expecting trouble? Do you truly not have any concept of how large and rabid your fan club is?”
James batted those emerald green eyes of his and purred, “But I only have eyes for you, darling.”
“I know this and appreciate it, but dammit, James, walking around like eye candy is asking for trouble.”
