Page 9 of Royal Valentine

“I do?” I reached up, trying to find it and missing.

“May I?”

I nodded, holding my breath as he reached out with his thumb to wipe the chocolate away from my mouth. I felt a jolt when he made contact with my lips, and I tried to stay still.

He made me feel like a teenager dating for the first time. Like everything was new and exciting.

His dark brown eyes were burning, and he looked like all he wanted to do was use his mouth instead of his thumb.

“There.” His voice was soft and deep and it made my stomach twitch. His Adam’s apple bobbed while his jaw clenched tightly. “I got it.”

“Okay,” was all I managed to say. I supposed it was better than “Don’t stop” or “Are you going to kiss me yet?”

He cleared his throat. “Did you want to tell me the history of that trash can over there? The company that manufactured it? The year it was installed?”

I pursed my lips so that I wouldn’t smile. “You’re not as funny as you think you are.”

“That’s where you’re wrong. Perhaps it’s an additional side effect—you cannae properly appreciate top-notch humor because of your excessive drowsiness.”

“If I’m drowsy, maybe it’s because my tour guide is boring me to sleep.”

“No, that cannae possibly be it. I’m quite charming and entertaining. It has to be the medication.”

Now I did laugh.

He offered me his arm. “You should hold on to me for safety reasons. In case you suddenly fall asleep again and I need to catch you.”

I was eager to touch him, to put my arm through his, to rest my shoulder against his biceps. “If you insist.”

“I do. Where to next?”

Anywhere, so long as I’m with you,I wanted to say. Instead I settled on, “You’re the expert. I leave myself in your capable hands.”

Another grin. “You dinnae ken what you’re agreeing to.”

Maybe not, but I was very much looking forward to finding out.

CHAPTER FOUR

Despite my overactive and fevered imagination, Callum Stewart was, unfortunately, a total gentleman. While we toured the Colosseum, he told me his favorite book wasWar and Peace. When I told him that wasn’t anyone’s favorite book, he admitted that it was actuallyPeter Pan, written by a fellow Scot. His mother used to read it to him every night before he went to bed. It was a completely endearing admission.

At the Roman Forum I spotted a tour group whispering and pointing at us. I headed into a crowd, intending to lose them. Not wanting Callum to notice, I asked him, “What’s your favorite type of music?”

“Classical.”

That made me come to a complete stop, and he nearly slammed into me. “You don’t mean classical like something from the 1990s, right?”

“No, like Bach and Mozart. Beethoven’s Symphony No. 7 is probably my favorite.”

If I’d needed a sign from the universe that we had been meant to meet, this was it. “That’s one of mine, too.”

“It doesnae put you to sleep?” he asked, and I elbowed him while he laughed.

While we explored Palatine Hill, he asked me what I would pick if I could have any superpower.

“Invisibility.” No question.

“Out of all the possibilities? That seems a weird choice,” he said in a joking tone.

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