Seeing these books, knowing how much effort he’d gone to in order to offset the devastation I’d felt at the loss of my library, made me seriously want to kiss him.
What I wanted to know was how the hell had Prince James, a man who had never, ever been in my house, known which authors were in my personal library? No, seriously, how? I’d never mentioned which authors were favorites or how much I loved to read. How had he thought to do this, for that matter, because I hadn’t mentioned my library to him. But he’d known,somehow, that of all the things he could do for me, replacing my lost books would make me happiest.
This question stuck with me throughout the rest of the afternoon. The kids bounced off on their merry way, back on the scavenger hunt, determined to find every book on the list and claim their silver. For that matter, I wanted them to succeed, so I gave them a few hints of other stores they might try.
My furniture was set up, bed frame put together and mattress on. The workmen called it quits around dinnertime. I let them go with much thanks and an agreement to come back tomorrow afternoon. They’d need to pick up more materials, as they’d exhausted all they’d brought in, but they’d finished putting in the floor. I considered their progress a miracle and wasn’t complaining.
I closed up my house and walked toward the palace, thinking as I went. Prince James had given many signs that not all was as it appeared. Signs he knew far more than he should.
I’d considered the theory of regression before, and every new piece of information seemed to support it.
I’d read many an account of people who’d remembered snippets of their former lives, but they’d said it was like a hazy dream in some ways. Realistic, and they’d known they’d lived through it, but they were emotionally one step detached from it all. Prince James didn’t act detached at all. He acted like a veteran fresh from a battlefield. Come to think of it, even his reactions resembled those of a veteran returned from war. No one could approach him quietly from behind, otherwise they’d be wheezing around the hole in their throat while he apologized for his reflexes.
The way he’d reacted to this disaster, like it was entirely his fault it had even happened, had also raised question marks in my head. Why would he feel so when ninety-nine percent of the population blamed Prince Victor?
And then him knowing off the top of his head who my favorite authors were, when not even my coworkers had seen any of the books I’d brought with me to work? Knowing I kept a suit in the closet? That was where questions stopped and theories started. There was no way for him to know that information.
But even when I didn’t say a word, this man saw me. Heard me. He reached out to me, again and again, even when I rebuffed him. James Kronenscheld, against all reason, wanted me as his lover. Every action, every breath, every glance at me made his feelings abundantly clear.
I was tired of denying the fact that I wanted him, too.
I’d reached the point where I couldn’t see him as just a prince. I saw the man—the person who gave too much of himself and didn’t ask for enough back. A man who would do all he could to make sure those closest to him were properly loved and pampered. He was the epitome of the kind of man I wanted for myself, and if he hadn’t been both my boss and royalty, I wouldn’t have hesitated to say yes to his first date proposal.
Spending so much time at his side had made something else clear to me. This man’s heart called to mine. I couldn’t explain it any other way. When I was with him, a sense of rightness embraced me. When I was alone, a feeling of discontent dogged my footsteps. I liked my alone time, so that was odd in and of itself. And it wasn’t that I wanted all of James’s attention, I’d be happy reading while he was in the same room with me. I couldn’t even explain the feelings to myself, really. I just wanted to be with him.
I was still of two minds about tangling with royalty, because I don’t actually want to be that high profile, but…James. I wanted James. I was tired of trying to deny that to myself. I craved this man’s company, his smiles, that soft expression on his face when he looked at me. I wanted him dearly enough that I was willing to navigate the pitfalls of dating him.
If I’d learned anything, it was that James the man needed me. Not just wanted me—needed me.
It was about time I answered the call.
All that said, I had many a question to pose to him first, and this time, I wasn’t willing to let him slink out of answering. I was tired of wondering, and wondering, and him acting weirder by the day. Time to learn the truth.
Which meant stopping by a liquor store first.
James, unlike most nobility, was not much of a drinker, but I’d seen him enjoy a glass or two of a sweet white wine. I bought a bottle and carted it up to the palace, stopping in the kitchens first for a late dinner, as it was nearly nine o’clock in the evening.
I dropped the bottle off in my rooms, then went hunting for a certain enigmatic prince.
Who was in the office. Still. When he should have stopped working three hours ago. I’d feared as much, but it left me completely exasperated. Apparently he really wouldn’t rest unless I rode herd on him. He was the only one still there, toiling over something, a gas lamp glowing on the desk, all the other lights in the room off. He glanced toward the door when I entered, then paused altogether, straightening while giving me a smile. It looked tired, the man himself even more so. Even if I didn’t get answers tonight, I’d have to stop him. He needed rest.
“Edwin,” he said happily. “Checking in before bedtime?”
“Stand up.”
He looked bemused at my order but stood regardless. Him doing whatever I told him to was another weird thing, honestly. It should be completely the opposite, but from day one, he’d always responded so.
I owed him a thank-you before I started shaking him for answers. The second he was free of the chair, I pulled him toward me and bear-hugged the stuffing out of him.
He made a happy noise in the back of his throat before hugging me tightly in return. “I’ve made you happy.”
“You bought me books.”
“You refused the book I tried to buy you before.”
“A fact I now regret,” I admitted. “Feel free to buy me more books.”
He softly chuckled against my head. “If this is what I get when I buy you a book, I’ll buy you every book in the world.”
