Page 27 of Fit for a King

When we reached the door and he moved to open it, I quickly placed my hand over his and he froze.

There was no scenario in which what I was doing was appropriate, no reason I should be reaching out and touching a man that was hired to serve me, but after everything he’d just shared, I felt the need to connect with him.

“Your Majesty?” Noah’s voice was softer, deeper now.

“Thank you for sharing your family’s story with me.”

Those soft lines around his eyes reappeared with his smile. “Thank you for asking.”

I went to remove my hand and, as I did, traced my fingers along the back of his.

Whether it was by accident or on purpose, I couldn’t be sure. But when his warm hazel eyes darkened, I knew I needed to remove myself—and fast.

Noah Bennett made me forget time, place, and myself.

That was something I couldn't afford, no matter how tempting he might be.

9

NOAH

I’D BARELY SLEPT a wink last night.

For hours I’d lain there on my twin mattress staring up at the ceiling, replaying the day over and over again—one part of the day, anyway.

My hand still burned from when the king had put his over mine, sending shocks through my body, and not just because I was surprised at his touch.

I was attracted to him. I couldn’t even deny it at this point, and my stomach’s flipping over itself had only confirmed it. What did it say about me that the man causing butterflies wasn’t the one joking around with me over mahjong, but the one who glared at me and put me in my place?

Ugh, that was so messed up. One scowl from Nicholas and I tripped over myself, but then he’d gone and shown me a sliver of the man behind the crown, and I was done for.

It had really happened, right? I hadn’t dreamed that the king had shown up in the private library, taken Prince Gabriel’s place, then asked me questions about my life and family? And then put his hand over mine and actually thanked me for it?

Maybe all those things really had happened, but surely I’d been imagining the spark between us, because there was no way it wasn’t completely one-sided. A king didn’t look at his footmen as anything more than staff. Nicholas had made that abundantly clear many times over.

So, no, yesterday was a brief human moment, nothing more, and it was back to being professional in the shadows for me.

At least, that was what I was telling myself as he sat behind me in his dressing room and I prepared his shaving implements. Even in the modern monarchy, this was one old-world tradition that had been carried down, though this was the first time I’d been trusted to do it.

I took the rolled white towel out of the steamer with a pair of silver tongs, set it on the tray, and shut the top of the warmer. Practiced precision was the only way my head was staying on straight today, and I tried to pretend this was just another day of doing the same routine with the duke when I’d been in his employ.

The towel was scalding hot, and I unrolled it then snapped it in the air, letting it cool enough to place it on His Majesty’s face.

I turned toward him and thought I saw his eyes drop back down to the tablet where he was reading an overview of what his first meeting this morning entailed.

“May I?” I asked, and he gave me a clipped nod, keeping his focus on the screen.

Reaching for the button on the side of the arm, I reclined his chair a bit and, once he was where I wanted him, laid the hot towel carefully along the lower half of his face and neck, making sure to keep it under his nose and curved up to his short sideburns. Using gentle movements, I pressed the steamed warmth into his skin, moving my hands down his jaw and the length of his neck.

Nicholas’s eyes flicked to mine, and I startled at the intensity in those blue depths.

I dropped my hands. “Is the temperature okay?”

He gave a nod, and I backed away, then turned to get the soap ready.

Why, why, why did this man throw me so off balance? That wasn’t like me at all. Yet since I’d arrived, it was like I’d been completely thrown out of my element.

I poured the luxury soap he preferred into a small bowl, and as I began to swirl the shaving brush around to build a rich foam, the scent filled my nose and instantly made the butterflies come back with a vengeance.