“Why ever not?” He’s playing innocent, but the teasing note in his voice makes me positive we’re on the same page. “Are you ill?”
“No, I feel fine. I don’t know why I couldn’t eat.” I shrug, ignoring the way the movement makes my breasts shift against his chest and my nipples tighten. “Or why I can’t dance. But for some reason, I have a feeling they might be connected.”
“Really?”
I nod slowly. “Yes. If I recover my appetite, I’m almost positive my dancing skill will follow.”
“Fascinating…” He arches a brow, his attention shifting from my eyes to my lips, making me even more aware of how close we are and how easy it would be…
All I’d have to do is shift my head to one side and lean in.
“Then we’ll have to try this again soon.” Abruptly, he sets me on my feet, steps back, and lifts a hand to Madame Beatrice. “Something’s come up, Bea, but we’ll see you next week. I’m sure we will have all sorted by then.”
“But we are just beginning, Andrew,” Beatrice says as he backs away. “And we only have a few lessons before the wedding.”
“Don’t worry, we’ll get there,” Andrew calls over his shoulder as he jogs down the stairs and across the lawn toward the castle.
I stand, watching him go, wishing he didn’t look so good running away from me.
Wishing he didn’t look so good, smell so good, feel so good period.
Beatrice appears at my side, patting my arm as she says, “Don’t worry, darling. We’ll make a magical pair of you yet. Just wait and see.”
I nod and smile, but I know she’s wrong.
Andrew and I will never be a pair, and the magic that flickers between us every time we touch is a kitchen fire we have to put out before it burns the house down.
Chapter Seventeen
Andrew
My jaw hurts from trying not to smile, and my toes are so bruised I’ll have to ice them before I go for my run, but I don’t care.
In fact, I’m pretty damned impressed.
I’m a prince, firstborn to my parents, destined to be king from the moment I arrived on earth. People have been kowtowing to me since I was in diapers, bending over backward to make my life easier and their interactions with me pleasant. My mother and grandfather did their best to keep me grounded, and my brothers give me enough shit to keep me humble, but I’m still accustomed to a certain amount of coddling.
I can’t remember the last time a woman expressed displeasure with my behavior, let alone pranked me this hard. Whether she’s Lizzy or Sabrina, the girl who handed me my ass on the dance floor is a force to be reckoned with.
The thought banishes the warm feeling from my chest.
I have to find out if she’s Lizzy or Sabrina. Soon. Before I kiss her again, the way I nearly did a few minutes ago.
And then I need to do some hard thinking.
If this is Elizabeth, and she’s simply more comfortable with me in person than on the phone, then maybe my brothers are right. Maybe being married to her isn’t a fate worse than death. I’m never going to find a partner who doesn’t know that I’m a king—my social media account and ever-present guard detail make sure of that. No matter how much a woman seems to care about me as a person, I’ll never know how much of her affection is tied to the fact that I’m royalty.
That’s my reality, and it always will be.
So maybe, if I’ve lucked into an arranged marriage with a beautiful woman with a killer sense of humor, who’s not afraid to give as good as she gets, I should hold on to her.
And if she’s not Elizabeth?
I rake a frustrated hand through my hair.
Dammit.
I have to know. Now.
Pausing in the shade covering the back patio, I jerk my phone from my pocket and stab out a text to Nick—What have you found? Tell me you have answers because I’m about to lose my mind out here.
A beat later, bubbles appear, then an eye-rolling emoji—It’s been an hour and a half. Give me a break. You know how hard it is to find pictures of the Rochat family. You’ve done your share of poking around.
Frowning, I type—But I’m not as good at it as you are. I haven’t hacked into a website since I was fifteen.
A smiley face pops up, and Nick says—Aw, thank you. It’s nice to see you handing out praise. See? Lizzy, or whoever she is, has already been good for you.
I hit the call button and lift the phone to my ear, snapping as soon as Nick answers, “This isn’t a joke. This is the rest of my life on the line. I have to know if she’s lying to me.”