The question in his eyes was easy enough to read.How does a coat check girl get involved with a prince?His eyes darted to the crown of her head, where her tiara would rest if she had worn it this evening. Which she did not—thank goodness.
“You’re from Zimrada.” It wasn’t a question.
She nodded, breathlessly waiting for the jig to be up, as the Americans say. Any second now he would realize he was holding a princess in his arms and he would let her go—and her heart may never be the same.
Instead of letting her go, he splayed his hands on her lower back. “You travel with the royal family?” he asked. The quartet began a bluesy version of “Blueberry Hill.”As if he didn’t already have her wrapped in coconut leaves, he began to sway to the music.
“Yes,” she whispered.
“Are you an advisor to the queen or something?”
“Or something,” she replied. The wordsI’m the princesswere right there on the tip of her tongue. Too afraid of the emptiness that would surround her when his arms peeled away, she kept the information to herself.
Three words—I’m the princess—were all that stood between him placing the appropriate distance between them and a possible kiss.
Three words and she would lose the sense of belonging and of protection unlike any she’d ever known. Right here, right now, she was just a woman being held by a man and she very much wanted him to kiss her.
He pushed aside the branches again and she pushed aside thoughts of a whirlwind American romance. “Looks like your boyfriend has taken up position next to the tarts.”
“Suitor,” she corrected.
“What’s the difference?” he asked with a lift on an eyebrow.
She applied a patient muse to her lips. “A boyfriend implies mutual agreement to the situation. A suitor is a one-sided attempt at romance.”
They watched as Prince Marius was approached by the ambassador from Belize and the two struck up a lively conversation. Nyssa leaned forward, catching the wordstrade embargo. Leaning away, she sighed. “They’re going on about the barricade.” She glanced up at him, wondering how his beard would feel against her neck. She imagined it would tickle something fierce and had to stomp out a giggle.
The no-eyebrows man stepped in front of their hiding place, his back to them. Surprised by his movement, Nyssa jerked into her hiding partner. If they were to push their way through the fronds, they’d make enough noise to draw attention. With the no-eyebrow guy standing right in front of them, they’d surely make a scene. That was all she needed—for Kingston to haul her out of the bushes with a stranger. Her mother would have a fit.
“That’s our only way out. We could be here for hours.” Not a totally horrible thought, considering how nice it felt to be tucked in close to this man. The irony of voluntarily hiding behind a barricade when she’d so recently worked to be free of one was not lost on the princess.
Her captor pressed a finger to her lips and grinned.
“Now what?” she whispered.
“Now things get fun.” He winked. Letting go of her waist, he trailed his fingers down her bare arm and took her hand.
Thisisfun.She shivered with attraction, wondering how it was possible for a man to be so charming with hardly a word. He pulled her along the wall until they reached a set of glass doors. He moved to push it open and she caught his arm.
“Surely an alarm will sound.” The shrill noise and flashing lights would attract every security detail in a five-block radius, and Kingston would inform Mother that she was caught sneaking out with a strange man. If listening to American music was a bad idea, this was a volcano of bad ideas.
“No worries.” He pressed a metal tube against the bottom sensor before opening the door.
Nyssa jerked her hands to her ears, ready for the alarm. She turned wide eyes in all directions, looking for an escape.
Nothing happened. Well, nothing except the door swinging open without even a squeak to reveal an intricate garden with a brick pathway. There were beautiful flower beds with dark soil and spots of color, sections of recently trimmed grass, and the sound of water bubbling somewhere close.
Eyeing her mystery man, Nyssa realized what a mystery he truly was despite the sense of belonging she’d felt in his arms. She’d felt as if she fit against him like two halves of a clamshell. Yet, she couldn’t forget the sense that he wasn’t exactly safe. Not that she feared him, because she didn’t, but she wasn’t ready to throw caution to the wind. “How’d you do that?”
He handed her the metal tube. It sat heavy and cold in her palm. She examined it for buttons and blinking lights and found none. It was … boring.
“It’s a magnet,” he explained.
“And you carry this with you because …?”
He gently lifted it out of her hand, as if it were made of gold instead of steel. “This is a cow magnet. Farmers slide them down a cow’s throat to prevent Hardware Disease.”
She tipped her head. “What is that?”
