Page 93 of Falling Princess

Welp. That was an awkward opening conversational bid.

Lorcan cut me one of his unreadable glances. “I understand. You didn’t want me.” He returned his attention to the aubergine he was systematically eviscerating. It lost its head and rolled dramatically across the kitchen island onto the floor. “Around, I mean.”

“I didn’t want anyone around. I wanted to get away from the pressure at home. Be, you know...a regular person for a while.” I snorted at my own delusion. “Fundamentally, I’m like every other nineteen-year-old girl on Earth. I’m just not allowed to act like it.”

“You’re not, though.”

He wasn’t doing anything to steer this conversation away from cringeworthy topics, either. It’s a bit strange to speak of these things without looking at one another.

“Yes, I am.”

“Not really. You’re, you know.” Another flicker of blue flashed through his shaggy hair. “A princess.”

“I didn’t choose to be. I wouldn’t have.”

“I know it’s not easy, but you’re a good princess.”

“No, Lorcan, I assure you I am not.” Good princesses don’t destroy their bedrooms with half-assembled robots. “When have I ever princessed adequately? Name one time. If you say Midwinter, I will laugh in your face.”

“London. The drunk U.S. Ambassador who followed you around like a lost puppy all night.”

I snorted. “I didn’t do anything except restrain myself from slapping him. No princess skills necessary. Clever of you to use dancing as an excuse to get me away from him.”

He shrugged. “I didn’t think you’d go for it.”

“Anything to escape that disgusting man’s company without causing a diplomatic incident.”

“Even dancing with your detested knight.” He flashed me a rare grin. “I figured it was the one chance I’d ever get.”

True. That would never fly, back home.

“You saw an opportunity, and took it?” I teased.

Lorcan ducked his chin. “More or less.”

He’s good at seizing the moment. Lowering to think he’s never tried to kiss me. I’ve given him plenty of opportunities, and he never took advantage of a single one. Confusing.

Or, perhaps not.

“What’s cooking?” Raina asked, coming into the kitchen and helping herself to a glass of wine. Study time must be over.

He never did with her, either, and gods above, she’s given him ample opportunity over the years. I wish I understood him.

“Stuffed shells. It’ll bake in the oven and feed us all for a few days,” Lorcan informed her.

“Sounds delicious. I wonder how Kenton and Bash are getting by,” Raina mused.

“Probably at Scarlett’s place, and ordering takeout every meal, respectively.” I grinned. The dorm is probably a filth pit by now. “Cata will be home from work in an hour or so. She’ll appreciate not having to cook for all of us.”

She hasn’t set foot in the kitchen once since we all invaded her house.

“I’d better finish my TV show before she puts the news on.” Raina padded back into the living room with her wine.

I gently placed my fingers on Lorcan’s forearm. He stilled under my touch.

“Thank you for taking care of us,” I removed my hand. I shouldn’t. It’s not my right. It’s notright, period. My father is his employer. But I can’t hold back. I want a repeat of that night at the safe house together, with kissing. I want skin on skin like we had on Mount Astra, minus the cold. But we can’t. He’s been a maddeningly perfect gentleman since that day. “I’ll help you clean up.”

Lorcan is always maddeningly perfect.

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