Page 160 of The Unlikely Spare
“—completely unreasonable to keep him for six bloody hours. What could they possibly need to know that takes?—”
Singh knocks. The voice cuts off. Footsteps, then the door yanks open to reveal Cavendish, looking harried.
“Thank Christ,” he mutters. “He’s been pacing for the last hour. I was about to suggest sedating him.”
“O’Connell just finished with Scotland Yard. We thought it best to expedite the reunion for all involved,” Singh replies.
“Good idea.” Cavendish steps aside to let us pass, and that’s when I catch it.
The way his eyes find Singh’s for just a heartbeat, softer than I’d expect. Singh’s fingers brush Cavendish’s wrist as he moves past, so brief it could be accidental. Except nothing Singh does is accidental.
Oh.
Suddenly, Singh’s behavior makes sense.
The way he’d recognized what was between Nicholas and me. He knows what it looks like to hide feelings in plain sight. Although it makes the rapidly disappearing bottle of massage oil slightly more disturbing in hindsight.
“Officer O’Connell.” Nicholas’s voice cuts through my revelation. He appears behind Cavendish, perfectly put together in a fresh suit except for hair that’s still aggressively blond and slightly manic from repeated finger-combing. “Finally.”
His eyes meet mine, and fuck me. Six hours of questioning, of laying bare every moment between us for official record, and just looking at him makes my pulse kick up like I’m still running from Pierce’s men.
“Your Royal Highness,” I manage.
He’s whole. He’s safe. He’s standing there looking imperious and impatient and unharmed. Thank fucking god.
“I require Officer O’Connell’s presence for an extensive debriefing,” Nicholas announces to the room at large. “In my bedroom. Immediately.”
Singh doesn’t quite hide his smile. Cavendish looks at the ceiling like he’s praying for patience. Davis makes a strangled noise.
“Sir,” Cavendish tries. “I’m not sure that’s?—”
“That’s what? Appropriate?” Nicholas’s voice could freeze hell. “I’ve been shot at, kidnapped, and had my hair bleached to look like a cautionary tale about DIY hair treatments. I’ve also been forced to spend four hours explaining everything that happened to me to palace officials who seem to believe that the stability of the Commonwealth apparently hinges on whether I was coerced, seduced, or simply lost my mind when I decided to play Bonnie and Clyde with my protection officer. I will debrief with whomever I choose, wherever I choose. Clear?”
“Crystal, sir,” Cavendish replies. He glances at Singh, some silent communication passing between them. “We’ll be outside if you need anything.”
Nicholas is already turning away. “I won’t.”
I follow him through the suite, hyperaware of the others watching. The bedroom door closes behind us with a definitive click, and then it’s just us.
Nicholas and I, and whatever happens next.
He turns to face me, and suddenly, the imperial bearing drops away. He looks exhausted, with shadows under those blue eyes that can’t be hidden.
“Hi,” he says softly.
“Hi yourself.”
We stand there, three feet apart, and I realize I have no idea how to do this. How to go from handcuffed together in the back of an SUV to…what? What are we now?
“So,” Nicholas says, and there’s a tremor in his voice that makes me want to reach for him. “Extensive debriefing. Very thorough. Should probably start with a comprehensive physicalassessment, make sure neither of us sustained any lasting damage from our adventures.”
“Is that what we’re calling it? Adventures?”
“Would you prefer near-death experiences? International incidents?” He takes a step closer. “Best first date ever?”
“First date?” I can’t help laughing. “Which part? The attempted kidnapping or the actual kidnapping?”
“I was thinking the camping, actually.” Another step. We’re close enough now that I can see the darker flecks in his blue eyes. “You’re the one who announced we were on our honeymoon.”
