Maybe the state had given it to him in payment or something. Laura blinked but it didn’t make her brain hurt any less. ‘I’d have thought it would belong to the king.’
‘It does.’
His expression was unreadable, his eyes unfathomable. Which was a shame as she could really do with a little help here. Absolutely nothing was making any sense.
If the palace belonged to the king and it also belonged to him, then that would mean that Matt was the king. Her brain might be about to explode but she could work that much out. And if he was king what had he been doing in Little Somerford? What had he been doing smouldering at her, tearing off her clothing and taking her to heaven and back?
God, it was a good thing she was sitting down.
‘Who exactly are you?’ she said, not at all sure she wanted to have the horrible suspicions flying around her head confirmed.
‘You know who I am.’
‘I thought I did. I thought you were Matt Saxon.’ She gave a little shrug as if it didn’t bother her one way or the other. ‘It looks like I was wrong. Silly me.’
‘You weren’t. I am Matt Saxon. I happen to also be King of Sassania.’
Ah. There it was. Proof that she hadn’t been going mad. At least not within the past five minutes.
Laura gulped, completely unable to unravel the swirling mass of emotions rolling around inside her. Maybe it would be best to stick to facts. ‘Since when?’
‘Three weeks ago.’
‘Before or after we…’ she broke off and went red ‘…you know…?’
‘The coronation took place the Monday after the weekend when we…er, met.’
He gave her a little mocking smile and her cheeks flamed even more.
And then out of the tangle of emotions, indignation suddenly broke free and fuelled through her. How dared he laugh at her? It was all very well for him, perched there being all high and mighty. She was the one who was totally wrong-footed and struggling to get her head round what was happening. She had every right to be confused. And to demand some answers. ‘And you didn’t think to mention it?’
His eyebrows shot up at her sharp tone. ‘Why would I? We didn’t exactly stop to engage in small talk.’
Damn. That was true.
Matt tilted his head and shot her a quizzical glance. ‘Did you really not know who I was?’
Laura scowled at him. ‘I really didn’t.’
‘No, well,’ he said, lifting himself off the desk and moving to sit behind it, ‘I doubt the coronation was covered in Architecture Tomorrow.’ Like that was an excuse. ‘However if you remember I did suggest lunch, and if you hadn’t run off quite so speedily I might have mentioned it then.’
Laura’s eyes narrowed. Oh, he was clever. Turning it around so it was her fault. ‘I’d like to believe that, but somehow I don’t.’
Matt gave her a quick grin that curled her toes. ‘We’ll never know now, will we?’
Unfortunately not. ‘What were you doing in Little Somerford?’
‘Escaping the press.’
No wonder he’d flipped when he’d thought she was a journalist. He was gorgeous, young, rich and royal. A paparazzo’s dream. And she hadn’t had a clue. She really ought to broaden her reading horizons.
‘And you got me instead.’
‘Briefly.’ The grin faded and his mouth twisted.
Hmm. Laura bit back the urge to apologise. Any previous notion she might have had of apologising had long since disappeared beneath a blanket of confusion, indignation and something that felt suspiciously like hurt. ‘You sound peeved,’ she said coolly.
He raised an eyebrow. ‘Well, the speed with which you fled wasn’t particularly flattering.’