Page 14 of Royal Charmer
I laugh. “I think I’d like to be the worst too. It sounds fun.”
He lifts a palm. “Glad I could be such a positive influence.”
~ ~ ~
Lucas
Dinner with Alice was more relaxed than I thought it’d be. I anticipated she’d be in a sorry state like she was when I saw her earlier, but she’s resilient and strong. I can’t help but admire that, especially after learning the scope of the betrayal. Her fiancé and her best friend hooking up? That’s like one of those tearjerker movies my ex was into. She would ugly cry over those pretend people. Alice is dealing with it for real. Rather well, I think, too, though I couldn’t help but notice her ex is still in touch with her, and she seems like she’s considering keeping the connection. Me? I would never look back. I’ve always been a realist. Alice is a romantic. She’d have to be to write love stories.
Now I’m waiting in the living room of the guest suite while Alice gathers up the lingerie she wants to burn. I’ve got matches and the keys to the storage chest, where we keep the firepit and assorted tools, in my pocket. This suite was meant to be what guests imagine royal life to be like, and it’s suitably over the top with a fantastical ceiling mural, glowing columns, cherubs, even sconces meant to look like candles. My own suite is simple elegance—leather club chairs in the living room, antique mahogany furniture in the bedroom, nothing fussy or too gilded.
She emerges with a large black faux leather purse over one shoulder. “Okay, it’s all here. Are we burning it in a fireplace or somewhere outdoors?”
“We’ll make a fire on the beach. There’s a metal firepit we use on occasion.”
“Cool. Should I bring a jacket?”
I take in her dress, which exposes her smooth bare shoulders and her fantastic swell of cleavage, and think it a shame to cover it all. No, I’m not about to seduce a vulnerable woman who just got dumped by her fiancé. I’m not a total lech, and that is a situation ripe for the kind of drama I avoid like the plague. I just like looking at her. A lot. Unlike the women I usually date, who work with personal trainers for their sleek toned bodies, Alice looks soft, rounded with curves.Lushis the only word that seems to fit. Lush with curves, very feminine, and she smells like flowers.
I’m wearing a blazer over my white dress shirt since we dress for dinner in the formal dining room. “I’ll give you my blazer if you get cold.”
Pink colors her cheeks. “What a princely gesture.”
I lift my palms. “Did you expect anything less?”
Her blue eyes sparkle through her cat’s-eye glasses as she smiles. I get a thrill of triumph every time I make her smile, knowing the troubled place she’s in right now. “You live up to the princely hype,” she declares.
I make a formal bow before gesturing to the door. “Shall we?”
“We shall.”
She brushes past me and wobbles a bit. I catch her by the elbow, steadying her. She looks up at me, her eyes bright, her voice a little breathy. “Thanks. I’m not used to these heels.”
There’s something unique in her eyes, something I don’t often see, a gentle vulnerability lurking under that strong resiliency. I have the strangest urge to shield her from the harshness of life. Some primal inner-caveman thing going on here. Where did that come from?
She looks pointedly at my hand still gripping her by the elbow, only somehow my fingers have splayed further, touching her soft satiny skin.
I shake my head, returning to reality, and drop my hold on her. “Off we go.”
As soon as we leave the room, Arthur, the palace guard, trails us from where he’s been waiting in the hallway. He trusts no one. It’s his job, I know, but what Alice and I are about to do is a cathartic experience. She won’t be able to get angry and let go with witnesses.
“Just a minute,” I tell Alice before going to Arthur. “You’re officially off duty,” I tell him. “By my command.”
He bows his head and takes his leave.
I join Alice a moment later. She gives me a sideways look as we walk down the hall. “Just the two of us, then, huh?”
“I thought you might like some privacy.”
She looks straight ahead. “Right. Lingerie.”
“Not because of what we’re burning. Because of the cathartic element. You may cry or rage or dance on the ashes, I don’t know. I wanted to give you the freedom to do what you need to do.”
She halts, staring at me with a slack jaw.
“What?”
She shuts her jaw and tilts her head. “You’re uncommonly in tune to a woman’s emotional needs.”
