My knuckles brush her cheek. “You don’t want to do that.” It’s all over her face. The reluctance. The inner battle. “Are you married?”
“No,” she answers quickly, even if she seems unsure and out of sorts for the first time all night. “Not married. Not engaged. I’ve never even had a boyfriend.”
That’s…surprising. It has to be her choice. Any man who looks at her would kill to have her on their arm and claim her as theirs. My guess is she’s a sheltered girl from an aristocratic family. The kind of girl who gets paired and married off for money and station. Her parents are likely in this room but don’t seem to care that she’s dancing and talking to the prince enough to interject. Hell, they’re probably loving it.
“Then why shouldn’t you be here with me?”
She emits a humorless laugh and takes another sip of her drink. “You mean other than the fact that you’re the prince?”
I narrow my gaze. “How old are you?”
“Twenty-three.”
“I’m thirty-three.”
She smirks mockingly. “I know how old you are.”
“So other than the fact that I’m the prince, why shouldn’t you be here with me?” I challenge her attempt at a rhetorical question as I stare her down. I don’t want her to go. I want her to stay with me. I can’t explain it. Maybe that’s foolish. Maybe I’m drunk and simply like the way she looks and how she’s entirely different from every other woman in this room. Whatever. I don’t exactly give a shit if that’s my reason.
There’s something compelling about her. A siren in a sea of boredom.
She puffs out a breath and twists a piece of her long, dark hair, glancing out into the room, at all the people around us, before returning to me. “Oh hell. It’s just for tonight, right? Fuck it.”
A laugh bursts from my chest. “I’m good with that. Do you think we can risk more dancing?”
“Sure.” She finishes off her drink in two large gulps. “Let’s dance, Your Highness.”
“Rowan,” I correct as I finish off my drink, take her glass, and set them on a nearby table before I retake her hand. This time it’s a traditional waltz, and I twirl us around in perfect step. She keeps up easily, a sweet smile on her face for the first time all night.
Her head moves around, studying the crowd on the dance floor until she stops on the far side, her head swiveling around so she can continue to watch Sebastian and Bellamy talk quietly with each other, laughing and touching the way they always do. Their mutual obsession has only gotten stronger now that she’s pregnant with twins.
A frown tugs down her lips. “They look happy,” she notes.
I glance over and smile, especially when Zayer climbs onto Bellamy’s lap and tucks against her, more than a little exhausted at the late hour and the long day. She kisses his chubby cheeks and rubs his back. It makes my heart swell.
“They are happy. Happy to be together. Happy to be a family again. Happy to be alive.”
She returns to me, her brows furrowed. “You mean after what happened with the prime minister?”
“It was brutal,” I admit, a shiver racing up my spine as I think back to that night. “I’ve had some pretty rough moments in my life, but that’s right up there with losing my father.”
I can’t believe I just said that aloud. I don’t know this woman, and I’m saying too much, alcohol loosening my lips.
Her hand touches my cheek, forcing me back to her. “Yourfamily has endured a lot, as have the people of Messalina. I’ll admit, we’re in a bit of turmoil after the attack. Strange how such a beloved prime minister could turn out of nowhere on the king and his fiancée.”
I search her eyes. “People aren’t always who you imagine them to be. What you see isn’t always what you get. A lot of hatred and evil lived in his heart.”
“Particularly toward the king, it seems. It’s just difficult to wrap my head around it. Samil Batorini always seemed so kind. So fun-loving and full of life with a deep sense of honor for his country, whereas the king was cold and distant. A beast king. Isn’t that what they called him?” She licks her lips and looks back over at them. “In any event, I’m relieved the king and his new bride are well, and that we’re able to celebrate them and this wonderful occasion.”
The soft chime of a bell tinkles through the clatter and causes the orchestral music, along with our dancing, to come to a halt. “Your Majesties.” The master of ceremonies bows at Sebastian and Bellamy before addressing the rest of the room. “Honored guests. Dinner is served. We ask that you kindly join us in the dining room.”
Everyone starts to shuffle their way toward the entrance, but if we go in there, I’ll lose her. That’ll be it. She’ll sit at whatever table she’s supposed to sit at, and I’ll be at the head table with Sebastian, Bellamy, Althea, and the children. And while I was looking forward to that earlier this evening, now it feels like the last place I want to be.
Before she can take so much as a step, I lean into her and whisper, “Come upstairs with me.”
A breath catches in her lungs, but she meets my eyes, even as hers are pinched in confusion. “Just like that?”
“Just like that.” My knuckles drag along her soft cheek. “I don’t want to go to dinner. I don’t want lobster orchateaubriand or whatever they’re serving. I want you. Come upstairs with me.”
