Page 37 of Royally Wed
CHAPTER
NINE
By the third day of rehearsal, Asher began to get his bearings. At last.
Since the bow-chomping incident, he’d managed to avoid any more corgi-related crises. Willow still frequented his room, but much to her disappointment, Asher had gotten into the habit of securing his belongings. The only downside was that now that the Blue Room was dog-proofed, he hadn’t needed rescuing lately.
He hadn’t set eyes on Amelia in two days.
It was for the best, of course. He might not like it, but his feelings about the situation didn’t matter. He had his head in the game now. His playing was improving. It still wasn’t his best—far from it. He was getting there, though. At least he was no longer so preoccupied with the princess next door that he couldn’t concentrate on the reason he’d cometo England to begin with.
But then, midway through the afternoon run-through of Jeremy’s special composition ofThis is the Day the Lord Hath Made, the wedding anthem, disaster struck.
In the split second before the cello entrance, Asher’s gaze flitted from Jeremy’s white baton to a shaft of dazzling light coming from the auditorium’s doorway. He looked up just in time to see Amelia walk intothe theater, framed by the soft emerald hues of the Cadogan Hall lobby.
She was there. At rehearsal.
He lost himself for a second, transfixed by the sight of her. She wore an elegant red dress, nipped in at the waist above a full, swinging skirt. Her lips were painted crimson, and she carried a small clutch bag, covered with satin roses. It was quite the switch from the kimono and ripped jeansshe wore around the palace. Asher had never seen her in full-princess mode before, and the effect was rather hypnotic. He felt like he was watching an Audrey Hepburn film shot in Kodachrome tints too bright, too pretty to be real.
But he wasn’t watching a movie. Amelia was real. And she was searching the group of musicians with her cool gaze, only half paying attention to whatever the personnext to her was saying. It was odd seeing her that way—with her expression so scrupulously neutral. Asher had grown accustomed to the fire in her eyes. He saw those eyes sometimes when he dreamed, which he blamed on the fact that the room where he slept shared a wall with hers. Now he scarcely recognized her...
... until her gaze landed on him and her cherry lips curved into an impish grin.
That smile hit Asher with the force of a hurricane. Any progress he’d made in his quest to forget her flew right out the window.
“Reed, wake up,” the cellist beside him hissed.
Asher blinked and forced his gaze back to the maestro’s podium, where Jeremy was waving his baton like a madman and staring daggers at him. Asher jumped into the piece a few bars late and proceeded to make up for hisinattention by speeding through the melody, ignoring Jeremy’s pacing altogether.
Brilliant. Just brilliant.
Once the song was finished, Jeremy gingerly set down his baton and stepped away from the podium. Asher watched as he approached Amelia with an outstretched hand, and a proprietary surge of anger passed through him. Asher raked his free hand through his hair, dampened by perspiration, andtightened his grip on his bow until he felt the smooth Pernambuco wood start to bend.
What had gotten into him? He was sweating through his suit jacket and on the verge of finishing Willow’s job on the bow.
All because he was jealous of a simple handshake.
The man was sleeping with his ex, and Asher no longer seemed capable of mustering up any emotion at all where that mess was concerned. Buthe suddenly wanted to throttle the guy for speaking to the princess.
Face it. You want her.
He did, damn it. But he’d never be able to act on his feelings. Ever. There were far bigger obstacles than Jeremy standing in his way. Like Holden Beckett. And the queen. And the damn royal wedding.
Asher wasn’t entirely sure Amelia felt the same abouthim, anyway. He was fairly certain it was no accidentthat he hadn’t seen her in two days. She’d been avoiding him, which could mean she’d made a deliberate decision to put some distance between them.
More probably, there was no need for distance. He’d been a convenient distraction for a few days. She’d been bored. He’d been nothing but a toy, and whatever connection he’d felt had simply been a product of wishful thinking on his part. Princess Naughtystrikes again.
That didn’t explain the night they’d met at the church, though. Nor her reason for making this surprise visit to rehearsal. She wasn’t supposed to be there. It hadn’t been listed in the Court Circular, which he’d checked online just this morning.
Perhaps he was still more preoccupied than he wanted to admit.
“May I have your attention, everyone?” Jeremy clapped his hands andreturned to his podium. “As I’m sure you’ve noticed by now, we have a very special guest this afternoon. Her Royal Highness Princess Amelia Grace Amcott has decided to pay us a visit.”
Asher fixed his gaze with hers, and he saw it again—the familiar spark in her eyes that hadn’t been there moments ago. Like emeralds aflame.
He arched an eyebrow. Amelia’s cheeks flared pink, and she looked away.
“Let’s give Her Royal Highness, the bride, a warm welcome.”
