My eyes have darted to her shapely calf before I avert my gaze immediately.
I’ve got no idea how to respond.
“I think high heels are instruments of torture designed by people who hate feet. What doyouthink, Fred?”
She called meFred.
No one calls me Fred, other than Francesca, and that’s only when she wants to annoy me. And she’s rambling on about high heels, expecting me to examine her leg, and I truly have no idea how to behave. So instead, I simply gape at her, probably doing my best impersonation of a fish. The speech I prepared to greet her evaporates from my mind. I spent hours on that speech, perfecting it, getting just the right balance between the professional and personal, and now…poof. Gone.
I clear my throat. “I had meant that perhaps you should put your shoes back on,” I manage. “We have a rather full schedule this afternoon, and my parents are waiting. They will expect you to be in shoes.”
Really, it’s not a lot to ask.
“Oh! Of course. How silly of me. I’m so sorry. I’ll do that straight away.” She collects the shoes, hopping on one foot as she slides the first shoe on, then switching to the other. The dogs think this is a fun new game, dancing around her like she’s a maypole. She laughs and stumbles, and without thinking, I step forward and catch her elbow before she falls.
The contact lasts a total of three seconds, but in that time I register a few things:
1.She’s a little shorter than Francesca. The top of her head reaches my chin.
2.She smells like roses with a hint of vanilla and something I can’t quite name.
3.When she looks up at me it’s impossible not to notice the mesmerising sparkle in her big blue eyes.
4.My hand is still holding her elbow and I should let go immediately before this becomes even more awkward than it already is.
And it is already pretty awkward.
I release her and step back, nearly tripping over one of the dogs in the process.
“Thanks awfully,” she says.
My eyes trail over her dress. I tell myself it’s to inspect the muddy paw prints and dog drool, but despite myself, I notice her, a hint of her womanly shape beneath its elegant lines.
I clear my throat. “Your dress.”
She glances down, worrying her lip. “Oops.”
Oops?
She’s ruined a perfectly suitable dress she was due to wear to meet not only me, but her future parents-in-law who also happen to be the King and Queen of Ledonia, and all she has to say isoops?
“You’ll need to change,” I say.
“Of course.”
“And dogs are not allowed in the glasshouse. The plants are too precious.” I know I sound just as stiff as the press says I am, but I’m committed now. “We can’t have the plants destroyed by the dogs.”
“Oh, don’t blame them. They followed me in here. If you’re going to blame anyone, blame me.”
I have no idea how to respond.
This is becoming a habit.
“You see, I had a look around and I wandered too far and got lost. And oh my goodness, Fred, you live in the most sumptuous palace. I mean, of course I knew it was gorgeousbecause I’ve been here before, but that was when I was a child, and all I really remember is how delicious the desserts were. Then I met the dogs, and they looked like they were dying to get out of their kennel, so I let them out, and they followed me here to this marvelous place.”
“Thank you for…err, explaining that.” I press my lips together. “We’re running very late for the meeting with my parents. Perhaps you could change as I deal with the dogs?” My voice comes out more briskly than intended, and her smile falters.
“Do you think they’ll be terribly disappointed? Your parents, I mean. Mine are used to me, but yours don’t really know me. I thought they might expect someone a little more… princess-y.”
