He again deliberated briefly on the odd language she and hermother devised after years of having only each other for company before he dida mental count.
He then said, “Six.Sorry, no.Eight.”
She stared.
He grinned.
“Well, one could saythat’sa step up from athree-room cottage miles outside of Aisles,” she quipped.
He kept grinning, because for the first time in his entirelife, the vastness of his wealth and privilege had meaning.
“One can indeed say that, my dearest.”
She turned more fully to him.
“So, here’s the thing, my handsome, noble fiancé, I’m donewith all of that.It’s now your turn.”
He was confused.
“Pardon?My turn?”
“My drama.Good-bye.It is officially no longer all aboutme.It’s time to get to knowyou.”
Loren felt his neck get tight.
“So, we have a few minutes before we’re back home, tell mesomething I have to know about Loren Copeland, the handsome Marquess ofRemington,” she pressed.
“Right now, as is my state almost constantly when I’m aroundyou, I wish to kiss you.”
Her sweet tongue came out to wet her lower lip, he turnedmore fully to her as well, but she said, “Not that.Something else.”
Right.
Something else.
How about the fact you’ve asked, and I feel unable toanswer, which makes me wonder if my father is correct, and I have someaddiction to danger, living for years eradicating King Baldur’s final followersin the way my then prince, now king, instructed me to do, which is not for agentlewoman’s ears.
As such, much of what I did after is also not for yourears, as I was either seeking adventure, balls-deep in woman, righting wrongsin often brutal ways or participating in fights that either simply came aboutbecause of the company I was keeping, or I caused.I have vast experience bothhitting men in the face or getting hit in my own.Thus, I knowprecisely how that feels to give and to receive, as you witnessed me doing thesame to your father, and then some.
At the end of it all, the last twelve years I used mightfor right, creating death and destruction, and now…there’s you and I have nobloody clue what to do with you.
“Loren?”
“Often, my father would take me out of school for theholidays a day, or two, or even a week early, because he would have some greatadventure planned for the two of us, and we would need to give it the propertime.Traveling toBellebrynso I could pilot agalleon around the bay.Going toPaisallto attendtheir tournament, which is the best in all the lands.Even sailing toLunwynto ski, or down toBenies,simply becauseFleuridianwarmed chocolate isdelicious, even better than you can find inLunwyn, thoughthat is hotly contested between my father and me.”
“Which side are you on?”she asked softly.
“Benies.Father took me theresolely so I could compare.It vexes him that I came to what he erroneouslyconsiders the wrong conclusion.Though, what I did not share with him was thatI likedBenieson the whole better than anywhere elseat the time, because I was fifteen years of age.And thus, I was thinking withonly one part of my anatomy, andBeniesiennewomenhave no issue exposing a grand expanse of décolletage.”
She smiled a small smile at him.
He took her hand, drew her nearer, and watched his glovedfingers fiddle with her own.
“We are all we had.Father made it so we made the most ofit.”
“I know something about that,” she whispered.
Good gods.
