Page 76 of Her Royal Houseguest

He knew it was a test. He could see it in her dancing eyes but he kept his vow. He would not argue. Until she dressed him from head to toe in black. Not a colour anywhere. Then his temper broke.

‘Well?’ she asked.

He glared at his reflection.

‘Prince Deva, you must help me choose a style you like.’ She arched a brow at him.

He ground his teeth together. Perhaps he was helping her confidence too much. She was enjoying herself while he looked like a huge black beetle.

‘Prince Deva—’ she began.

‘This cannot be your fashion!’ he finally snapped. ‘Points in the neck. Bindings around the belly, the chest, the neck. How do you English breathe? Or walk!’ He stomped his foot wishing he could stretch his toes. ‘You are all insane!’

She grinned, releasing a peal of laughter that filled the shop. ‘This is what comes from letting me choose everything. You must give me your honest opinion!’

He rounded on her, already ripping the fabric off his body, heedless of the pins that clattered to the floor. ‘You English dress like wrapped sticks.’ He snorted as the black wool fell to the floor. ‘Tarred sticks.’

Smiling, she pulled out several sheets of paper and showed them to him. There were sketches there, inexpertly done but clear enough. Him in various clothing styles, an eclectic mix of English and Siamese styles.

‘You drew these?’ he asked. When had she had the time?

‘They’re not very good but they should give you an idea of what can be done.’

He leafed through the pages. ‘Yes,’ he said slowly. ‘Yes, I like this one. And this.’ He pointed to pants that did not restrict, a waistcoat with colours and a shirt without points. He would not wear a cravat, he declared, then immediately changed his mind when she held up several colourful ones.

‘You don’t need to tie it tight or fancy,’ she said as she wrapped the fabric around his neck. ‘I had to teach my brothers,’ she said. ‘This was their favourite.’

He lifted his chin and allowed her to work. And then he caught her fingers when she was done. There were so many words he wanted to say, so many thoughts that cluttered his mind. But when her eyes met his, everything in him stilled. Heat filled his heart and his kway.

She swallowed and his eyes caught the dart of her tongue across dusky lips.

‘You have done well,’ he finally said, his voice raspy. ‘Thank you.’

Her cheeks pinked and her eyes shimmered but it was nothing compared to what happened when his dancing lessons began.

No matter how he tried, he could not understand a dance with no meaning attached. Why did one move this way? What tale did the prancing convey? Steps without purpose seemed ludicrous to him.

So she made up tales to match the steps. A girl named Jill met a man named Jack. They held hands and walked up the hill, greeting the people they met along the way. Once they were at the top, she pushed him away and they spun back down to the bottom.

It was nonsense but it was a story he could remember. And she gloried in creating more interesting tales as the dances became complicated. None of them matched the wonder of waltzing with her but her laughter made up for it.

With each triumph, her confidence grew. She stood taller, her gaze met the world squarely now instead of being hidden beneath her lashes. She let him organise her boxes and he let her tell the tale of each of her tiny passions.

The danger came whenever they caught each other’s eyes, which was often. No matter what was happening around them, their gazes would lock and hold while Anna’s cheeks steadily heated from her blush and his kway thickened to an unbearable degree.

She still wanted him. And he ached to indulge them both. But he knew if he touched her again, all his efforts would be for nothing. She needed to feel strong and seduction, no matter how pleasurable, was about surrender. Confidence did not come from sex. It came from learning to stand firm.

The restraint nearly broke him. Every night he replayed what they’d done and he knew what he felt for her was more than his body’s hunger. Every moment they were together, she became more important to him. But he reasoned, there was nothing more he could do for the trade mission until after Prinny’s grand celebration. It would do no harm to relax his vigilance for a short time.

It was stupid but then allowing one’s kway to lead was always idiotic.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Was it possible to be made new in a single week?

How was it that seven days had changed Anna’s outlook on everything? Objectively, nothing much had changed, except the new servants had the house running smoother than ever. But every day had Anna feeling more capable, more in control and…and happier than she’d ever been in her life.

Every moment with Prince Deva filled her with joy. Even when they argued, she was filled with a current of excitement. As if squaring off with him or dancing with him or attending the theatre with him brought her to life in a fundamental way.