Page 4 of The Midnight Princess
He laughs. “Is there ever a wrong time for that?” he asks, nose almost to the glass. A shower of sparks blooms in his eyes.
My breath catches, and the distant crowd begins to count. “Ten, nine, eight…”
A loud boom cracks over the harbor, rattling the window panes. Massive fireworks shoot from the decks of naval vessels, lighting up the valley.
“Seven, six, five…”
The light in the orangery shifts from blue to crimson to gold, playing against the planes of his face. I’m caught in a spell,carried along by champagne bubbles, a whole city of lights, and a man who makes me want to curl around him.
“Four, three…”
I take a breath, surrendering to my most inarticulate, foolish wish. “I can’t have bad luck all year.”
With a low laugh, he tugs me close, steadying me with his hand, warming me through the thin material of my dress. His eyes dance. “You won’t.”
I lift my face. This is nothing more than a quick kiss to usher in the new year, but when his lips touch mine, I know I’m wrong. He feels it too. I sense it in the way his body suddenly quiets, every shuddering dial turned all the way down until he tilts his head, angling his mouth for something that lingers, a kiss that takes the last brittle straw of the old year and spins it into gold.
I lean into him, forgetting that I’m a princess for a moment, forgetting that I have responsibilities and a reputation. Promising to pay tomorrow for the indulgences of tonight.
He gathers me close, and wind tears the window open, swirling through the room, fluttering sheltered leaves, and tossing my skirts. Something wild has been let loose in the palace, shaking my root-bound self.
It’s too early, I think. But the thought is pushed out by a warm thumb tracing the rim of my shoulder. No. There’s no wrong time for this.
“Two, one!” The distant chimes ring but I don’t hear the shout that pours from the ballroom. I want to push my fingers through his hair, but just as I lift my hand, he raises his head. A breath breaks from his mouth, and a smile plays on his lips.
My lungs catch, but sound rushes in on me. The guests are already halfway through the traditional song.
I take a large breath, eyes enormous. “That was—”
His voice is low, stunned. “Yeah.”
2
Hands Off
JACOB
For one frozen second, as fireworks explode over the Handsel valley, the girl and I watch each other, light touching the soft curves of her face. A midnight kiss was not on my bingo card.
All the way through the forest, Karl was relentless about royal protocol and keeping to the timetable, every setback and delay making him more anxious. As soon as we arrived and were escorted to our suite, he became absorbed by a complicated skincare routine, and I slipped away, desperate for fresh air and two minutes of silence.
I’m a grown man. I wasn’t going to get into trouble. I was going to keep my hands off the valuables.
I look down. One hand holds this girl around the waist. The other rests on her shoulder, our skin warmed by the contact as her scent fills the air.
What the hell just happened?
I open my mouth to ask, but her expression turns to one of surprise mixed with horror. She peels herself out of my arms and ducks around me, latching the window closed, extinguishing the wind with a flick of her wrist.
“Happy New Year,” she murmurs, running away before I can say a word.
There’s nothing to do but return to the suite, assure an anxious Karl that I haven’t done anything to cause an international incident, and lie awake for hours, wondering when I’m going to see her again.
When morning comes, I wake to the familiar sounds of my alarm—the clashing drums and resonant, Viking vocals of Thorock—and throw an arm over my face.
“Welcome to Sondmark, Your Royal Highness.”
I bite back the warning he’ll only ignore.Don’t call me that.
