Page 24 of The Problem with Princes
“Sounds great,” I say while still holding my smile. I can’t decide if it’s real or fake. Maybe it’s a little of both.
Prince Tyrone stands rather quickly. The footman doesn’t even get there in time to pull his chair out for him. “I know I’m far too full for dessert just yet. What do you say we start our tour now with the palace gardens? We can walk off some of dinner.” He holds out his hand. “What do you say?”
I put my hand in his and glance back at Texie. I can’t just ditch her, can I?
Her eyes are wide as saucers, and she nods at the unspoken question.
“Do not worry about Miss Kincade. I’m certain Barak would love to entertain her. Isn’t that right Barak?”
Prince Barak narrows his eyes at his brother, but it’s such a quick action, it’s almost like it didn’t happen.
“You see? He is happy to do it.” Prince Tyrone pulls my chair out and helps me to my feet. “We will return for dessert, Mother.”
* * *
There isa lovely path at the bottom of the stairs that leads out into the gardens. The path is not completely dark, but neither is it fully lit. Long strings of landscape lights swag along the path, swaying in the breeze coming off the Mediterranean. I would likely be quite ruined if I were in a Regency novel. But as I’m not, I intend to enjoy it to the fullest.
It’s not like any garden you’d see in England or even most European countries. Gravel marks the paths between round white Greek columns supporting thick wooden timbers. It forms a sort of long pergola-type corridor. Grapevines hang low through the gaps. Flowers of all kinds fill pots lining the path. Purple, pink, and white lavender fill in behind.
“This is beautiful,” I say as I dip down to smell the red bougainvillea.
“Some of these grapevines are more than a hundred years old.”
I gasp. “I had no idea they could live for so long.”
He reaches over and plucks an orchid off the stem and tucks it behind my ear. He smiles at me in the dim light. My heart races and I wonder if it might just burst out of my chest so it can reach the finish line ahead of me. I don’t know what the winning prize is, but a small part—okay, that’s a lie—a really big part of me hopes it’s a kiss.
What am I thinking? All the dim light and fragrant flowers, mixed with the salty air, is making me think things that aren’t possible. Things that aren’t real. I’m not even sure if I want them to be real.
“Come, there is something I want to show you.” He motions ahead on the path and we start walking again. His hands are clasped behind his back and mine hang loosely at my side. Is it because I want him to hold my hand? That may or may not have crossed my mind.
We walk past flowers of lavender purple and bright pinks, their colors only heightened by the whitewashed columns among them.
I breathe deeply, in awe that Prince Tyrone gets to see this whenever he wants. Does he even appreciate it? I can’t imagine having anything like this just outside my back door.
He puts his hand on the small of my back and I nearly melt. He is close enough that I can smell his delicious cologne and it makes me heady. What has happened to me? This is not what I came to Atraxia for. But then, I hadn’t known seeing all this was possible. My gaze takes in all of my surroundings.
The path opens to a large expanse of lawn. “This area of the garden dates back nearly three hundred years.” In the center, a stone-framed rectangular pond trickles over stone steps every foot or two. At the head of the pond is a large water fountain. It’s not your average garden variety fountain. Its basin is at least fifteen feet across and has a large statue of a woman shooting an arrow. The water flows from the arrow tip, falling into another smaller basin, that waterfalls into the rectangular pond. It’s quite a water feat, especially considering its age. The quiet trickle calms my racing heart and mind.
“Wow,” is all I can mutter.
“Do you like it?” he asks, almost as if he is worried I won’t. I give myself a little internal guffaw. Because the idea that a prince cares what I think of his garden is laughable.
“I love it, Your Highness. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
He tilts his head to the side. “I think we are past the ‘Your Highnessing’ at this point. You can just call me Tyrone.”
The fluttery feeling travels up into my throat and I’m not sure I can even answer him. Seriously, this garden is doing things to me that I can’t explain.
“It’s beautiful, Tyrone,” I whisper.
He smiles, tucking the orchid more firmly behind my ear. His hand drops to his side and he frowns. “Does your boyfriend take you to beautiful gardens?” There is a timid quality to his voice.
“As opposed to my vacation boyfriends?” I can’t help myself and I laugh. “That was very smooth, Tyrone. Do they teach you things like that in Prince school?”
“No. That was all me.” He shrugs and looks adorably like a little kid. “I just didn’t want to assume anything.”
I reach up, looping my arm through the crook of his arm, and clasp my hands together. “I kind of like that it was all you. I was beginning to think that you might be too good to be true.”
