Page 42 of Royal Charmer
“Wow, wow, wow!” she exclaims. “It’s huge!”
I’ve seen it before, but I try to see it with new eyes. It’s a three-story immense chateau with a series of repeating windows across the front. The perfect symmetry of the windows is broken up by multiple Ionic columns and statues. I tell her what I know about it. “It once was the seat of French royalty and government. It’s so immense—more than two thousand rooms—you can’t get the whole thing into a picture. Baroque architecture in all its lavish extravagance.”
She lets out a little squeal and rushes out of the limo, snapping pictures with her phone despite what I just told her about it being too big to get into a picture.
I catch up to her, the guards following close behind, and follow her through the large courtyard as she marvels. Her open enjoyment warms my heart. I can’t believe I almost bailed on her. What a shit move that would’ve been. Obviously I’m not cut out for relationships, only thinking of myself.
She turns to me, her voice eager. “Let’s see the inside now.”
“Right this way.” I gesture toward the visitors’ door. Once inside, I lead the way to the information desk, where I check in for our private tour.
Alice’s blue eyes are huge as she whispers, “I can’t believe we get the private tour!”
“It’s because I’m Prince Lucas Rourke,” I whisper back with a straight face.
She smiles her sweet smile, and my heart kicks up. It gets me every time. “I know who you are. I guess I’m just not used to the VIP treatment.”
I am. It’s great most of the time, and other times I wish I could just blend and go about my life. I keep that to myself. “I hope you enjoy it, darling,” I say instead, rather gallantly.
“I shall,” she says with a grin.
A short while later, we go on our tour, heading through a reserved entrance and stepping into the splendor of the king’s private apartments. Our tour continues to the rest of the royals’ apartments, their private chapel, the main apartments, and the royal opera house. Alice is beside herself, oohing and ahhing through the tour, occasionally grabbing my arm in her excitement. Everything feels fresh through her eyes. Though it still feels over the top with all the gold fabrics, heavy marbling, and high domes. We finish the tour in the Hall of Mirrors, where we’ll be attending the ball later tonight.
She turns to me, her blue eyes bright. “I can’t believe we’re going to a ball here! In this very room!” Her brows knit together. “Are we supposed to know some Baroque dance moves?”
“I have no idea. I’ve never attended a Baroque ball. I think we’ll be safe with the standard waltz.”
She grimaces. “I’ve never waltzed either.”
“It’s easy. I’ll lead, you just follow and try not to step on my feet.”
She presses a hand to her forehead. “Why didn’t I think of this? I should’ve Googled Baroque dancing.”
“Relax. I’ll show you right now.” I take her hand and place my other hand in the center of her back for better control. “It’s a simple box step. For you, it’s right foot back, then left foot joins it. Then to the side and feet together. Ready?”
She blushes prettily. “Okay.” I’m not sure if it’s me being close or the fact that our tour guide and the guards are watching us. I hope it’s the first.
I do a slow box step, using my hand to guide her with me. She follows beautifully, her eyes on our feet.
“Hey, I’m pretty good at this,” she says, looking up at me and crunching my toe in the process. I suppress a wince, not wanting to discourage her. “Oops! Sorry.” She pulls away. “I’ll practice a bit in the room before tonight. Let’s go see the gardens.”
I let out a breath of disappointment. The gardens are more enticing than dancing with me. I must be losing my touch.
The gardens are formal, impressive in their grandeur, including a grand canal with gondolas and numerous fountains. Alice is so excited she’s practically running from one section to the next. She holds up her brochure. “There’s fifty-five fountains and one hundred fifty-five statues. We have to see them all!”
I can’t help but delight in her clear enjoyment of everything. We finish our tour with a stop at a small cart for lunch and take in the musical fountain show. When it ends, she leans over and kisses my cheek just above my beard. “What a wonderful treat. Thanks so much for bringing me here.”
“My pleasure.”
“Let’s head back. I want to have time to freshen up and practice dancing.”
I do one of my formal bows. See? I had some princely education. “As you wish, my dear Alice.”
She beams, her cheeks coloring with pink. She puts her hands to her cheeks. “I don’t know if this is because you read my book or the game, but I amlovingit!”
Unfortunately, so am I. Her pleasure is my pleasure. I don’t even mind making an ass of myself with the bows and such because all I care about is her reaction.
She falls asleep on my shoulder on the drive back. I smooth her soft hair away from her face. Two things strike me at the same time—I’m looking forward to the ball tonight, and I’m dreading its end because I don’t think I can resist her for a second night in a shared hotel suite.
