Page 59 of The Prince and His Stolen Groom
I tugged Brendon forward without looking at him, sighing in relief when we successfully walked down the path.
As soon as we were out of view of the statues, Brendon forced both of us to a stop. I glanced up at him, then quickly away when I saw his dark expression.
“Rick.” The sound of my name so simple, yet somehow a wordless command. I looked back at him, and he said, “You’re not evil.”
“The wizard thinks I might be,” I whispered.
His lips parted in surprise. Then he shook his head and said, “The wizard represents all of the good in the world, he probably thinks ants who ruined a picnic are evil. Whatever happened, you didn’t purposefully set out to hurt anyone.” He squeezed my hand tighter and declared, “You. Are. Not. Evil.”
I forced a smile and pretended to believe him. “And you’re not unlovable. I know Franny—”
“It’s not just your sister,” he interrupted, shutting down my poor excuse for a pep talk.
“Oh.” I thought of all the rumors of his conquests. How many times had he been looking for love, and they’d only wanted something from him? His title, his wealth, his body, everything except his heart. If I could just tell him … I didn’t know what I’d tell him. That I might, someday—maybe sooner than I expected—be able to love him? If he could forgive me enough to take the chance. Maybe it was time to tell him about the Good Wizard’s marriage alternative.
While I tried to unjumble my words, we started walking again. I still didn’t know what to say by the time we reached the last statue. Instead of a crossroads, it led straight into the heart of the maze. The maiden waited for us, serene in her patience.
When we approached her, she said in her sweet voice, “To enter the heart of the maze, you must answer one question.”
“What’s your question?” Brendon sounded tired. We were both ready to finish this maze.
“What is your favorite thing about your partner?”
I gawked at the statue, then looked behind us, even though I couldn’t see the other paths from this angle. “No way.”
“To enter the heart of the—”
“What’s the matter?” Brendon asked, looking in the same direction.
“I finally realized what this is,” I groaned, my cheeks heating in embarrassment. “It’s a fuckingNewlywed Maze.”
Brendon frowned in confusion. “A what?”
“It was a popular couple’s retreat that fell out of style when the magic shops closed,” I explained. “It’s a way for newlyweds to bond and get to know each other.”
“Ah, that would explain the hand holding,” Brendon replied, holding our clasped hands up between us, lips quirked in amusement. “When wedoget to the center, what then?”
A thousand potential options filled my head. My heart pounded in a mix of excitement and nerves and my throat dried. Soon, the nerves overruled the excitement as I pictured rejection after rejection, a surprised reaction morphing into disgust. Or worse, pity.Maybe it would be better to climb over the hedgerows.
Brendon apparently wanted to find out. “My favorite thing about Rick is how flustered he gets at even small touches.”
I gaped at him, thinking of all the times he’d brushed up against me. Gods dammit, hehadbeen doing that on purpose!
He grinned back. “Your turn.”
Though he looked cheerful, there was a nervous sort of edge to his smile—like he was afraid I didn’t like anything about him.
My own nerves calmed. Whatever lay at the heart, even if my worst fears came true, I had to answer the question. “My favorite thing about Brendon is”—his smile, his eyes, his hands, his tongue, his ass—“his mood swings.”
“Mymood swings?” he demanded incredulously. “I don’t havemood swings.”
“Of course you do,” I replied, suppressing my laughter at his baffled expression. “One moment you’re furious, the next you’re horny, and after that you’re relaxed but serious.”
“Mood swings,” he muttered for the third time, “that’s a horrible way to phrase it. People complain about mood swings, they don’tpraise them.”
I squeezed his hand gently. “Yeah, but it also means that your bad moods are easier to lift.” For a moment, I pictured us in the future, him grumpy—probably from something I did, since I always seemed to fuck up—and me coaxing him out of it …
It sounded perfectifwe could ever get to that point.
