Bridget
My grandfather wantedto know how my date with Steffan went.
That was right. The reason the king summoned me to his office immediately after I returned to the palace was so I could give him a detailed breakdown of my first date with the future Duke of Holstein—and potential future Prince Consort. He did also apologize for not including me in the “emergency” tax reform meeting, which Erhall called at the last minute. I was convinced Erhall did so knowing I wouldn’t be able to attend because of my date with Steffan, but I couldn’t prove it.
Edvard, meanwhile, was convinced Steffan was the one. Based on what, I wasn’t sure, but I imagined Steffan’s title, photogenic looks, and diplomatic demeanor had something to do with it.
My grandfather wasn’t the only one. The press and public went wild for the photos of us at the ice-skating rink, and everyone was already buzzing about our “burgeoning relationship” even though I’d spoken to Steffan twice in my life.
Still, Elin insisted I capitalize on the attention with another date. It would be a “private” one with no reporters—to give the illusion of intimacy—but would later “leak” to the press. I agreed, if only because she was right. The Part-Time Princess headlines had disappeared, replaced by breathless speculation over the new “love” in my life.
If only they knew.
On paper, Steffan would make the perfect husband. He was good-looking, intelligent, kind, and funny, and he was by far the best option out of the so-called eligible bachelors who’d attended my birthday ball.
There was only one problem: no chemistry.
None. Zip. Nada.
I had as much romantic interest in Steffan as I did the succulent plant in my room.
“It’s because you haven’t kissed him yet,” Mikaela said when I told her about my dilemma. “At least kiss the man. You can tell everything based on one kiss.”
She may be right.
So, at the end of my second date with Steffan, I worked up the nerve to kiss him, even though it seemed far too soon. But he was leaving for Preoria tomorrow, and I needed to know if this would go anywhere. I couldn’t spend weeks wondering.
“I must admit, I was surprised you wanted to meet again so soon after our first date.” He gave me a shy smile. “Pleasantly surprised, that is.”
We walked through the Royal Botanic Gardens’ large, heated greenhouse. Lush flowers bloomed around every corner, scenting the air with their sweet perfume, and strings of lights twinkled overhead like tiny stars. It was as romantic a setting as one could hope for, and I tried to focus on Steffan instead of the scowling bodyguard shadowing our every move.
If looks could kill, Rhys would’ve put Steffan six feet in the ground by now.
That was another reason I was hesitant to kiss Steffan. It seemed…wrong to do that in front of Rhys.
God, I wished I’d thought this through beforehand.
“I had fun,” I said when I realized I hadn’t responded yet. “Thanks for agreeing even though I’m sure you’re busy preparing for your trip tomorrow.”
“Of course.”
Steffan smiled.
I smiled.
My palms slicked with sweat.
Just do it. One tiny kiss. You have nothing to feel guilty about. You and Rhys aren’t dating.
“I’m not sure why, but I have the strangest desire to give a rundown of all the fun facts I know about flowers,” Steffan said. “Did you know tulips were worth more than gold in seventeenth-century Holland? Literally.”
That’s what happens when I’m nervous. I start spouting all sorts of useless facts.
A subtle hint from Steffan he wanted a kiss too. He had no reason to be nervous otherwise.
I discreetly wiped my palms on my skirt. Don’t look at Rhys. If I did, I would never go through with it.
“That’s fascinating.” I winced when I realized that was the sort of answer someone gave when they found the subject anything but interesting. “Truly.”
Steffan laughed. “I’m afraid there’s only one way to stop me from boring you death with my floral knowledge, Your Highness,” he said somberly.
“What’s that?” I asked, distracted by the sensation of Rhys’s gaze burning a hole in my side.
“This.” Before I could react, Steffan’s lips were on mine, and even though I knew the kiss was coming, I was still so stunned I could only stand there.
He tasted faintly of mint, and his lips were soft as they brushed against mine. It was a nice, sweet kiss, the kind cameras zoomed in on in movies and most women swooned over.
Unfortunately, I wasn’t one of them. I might as well be kissing my pillow.
Disappointment crashed into me. I’d hoped a kiss would change things, but it only confirmed what I already knew. Steffan, for all his wonderful traits, wasn’t for me.
Maybe I was naïve for thinking I could find a fiancé to whom I was attracted to and whose company I enjoyed, but I was only in my twenties. No matter how much everyone tried to rush me, I wasn’t ready to give up on my hope for love yet.
I finally gathered enough of my wits to pull back, but before I could, a loud crash shattered the silence in the greenhouse.
Steffan and I jumped apart, and my eyes fell on Rhys, who stood next to a broken pot of lilies.
“My hand slipped.” His voice held not an ounce of apology.